


To Freedom

by SkylarJames17



Series: FREEDOM [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Heading to New York, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Herc is the piano man, I guess I'll just add tags later, I hate tagging, Implied/Referenced Abusive Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Revolutionary Quartet in a Bar, Thanks Billy Joel you get creds, sometimes i get too personal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylarJames17/pseuds/SkylarJames17
Summary: First, John escaped his father. Then, John escaped his sadistic boyfriend, George. Now, John has hitched a ride most of the way to New York City with a bum shoulder. When he randomly ends up in To Freedom, looking to forget, the nice French person at the bar says no to giving him alcohol, but they do ask John if he's okay, which prompts an awkward conversation, which then leads to a South Carolinian runaway ending up on Lafayette's couch in an apartment with three other people. So John is kind of trying to pull his life together. But the threat of his ex finding him is a constant burden. And so are the nightmares. Maybe some friends and some possible romance can make it better.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here goes my first real fanfiction. I hope I don't get bored, honestly. Here goes!

On any given Friday night, you were sure to see four specific people hanging around in To Freedom, a run-down dive bar in downtown Manhattan.  
There was your Hispanic guy in the seat at the bar next to the wall, who never had anything to drink except a glass of water with a slice of lime in it. Never lemon. Always lime. Despite the dim light and the late hour, he’d always be hunched over some textbook, scribbling notes, or typing frantically on his laptop. You’d wonder what he was doing, that always had him writing like he was running out of time. But instead of asking, interrupting his work, you’d glide up to the bar, where you’d find our next person.

In a thick French accent, they’d ask you what you’d like. You’d try to discreetly marvel at their hair, which was huge, but tied back into a ponytail behind them. They’d have a masculine build to their face, but they’d be wearing flawless makeup completed with a bold shade of lipstick that never seemed to clash. You’d never be sure enough to name their gender, and that’s how they liked it. They’d give you a huge smile as they slide your drink across the table. But not before they check your ID.

Then, a few seats away from you, there’d be this guy just sitting there, silently, slowly, carefully sipping a beer. He’d be staring at some indistinct place on the table, or at the wall. He didn’t seem to be doing anything. He definitely wasn’t scribbling like the man on your other side. You’d always be intrigued by how cool, calm and collected he seemed. You wouldn’t know why he was there, or what he was thinking, but you didn’t have much to question.

All through your time at the bar, a soft tune would work its way through your ears, into the back of your brain, where subconsciously, it would relax you, soothe your nerves. With the calm tune there in the back of your mind, you could forget about life for a while. But if you happened to listen carefully enough, you’d recognize the sound of a piano, slightly out of tune. You’d look around, and you’d find the source. There’s a buff-looking, dark-skinned man sitting behind the piano. His eyes are half-closed. He looks drunk, but there’s no alcohol near him.

That’s how most nights are in To Freedom. Everybody is quiet. No one is anxious or sad, not behind these doors. It’s somehow washed away by the faint smell of whiskey and the gentle tones from the piano. And although it is silently understood that not one of the people in the room are free, that they each have their own personal lives to deal with, it’s forgotten and overshadowed by the knowledge that there is love hanging in the air of that bar.  
You walk in, and you never want to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too boring as a first chapter, but I think it was good so yay! Comments, please, they make my day. Love you, Kat


	2. ID, please.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now our story begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laf's a cutie. That's basically all I've got to say.

“S’il te plaît, mon ami. Take a break,” Lafayette half-begged Alexander. “Come on. You’ve been writing like a madman for two hours.”  
“Yeah, Laf, and I’m still not done. Now if you would excuse me --”  
Alexander was cut off by the ringing of the front bell, the one that rang every time someone entered the door.  
A boy with a face covered in freckles pushed his way through the door. Though his freckles were very endearing and his curls were adorable, both Lafayette and Alexander were stopped in their tracks by something else.  
The boy had his body curled protectively around his left arm. His neck was ringed with bruises. He wheezed slightly, as if he couldn’t breathe very well. And his eyes looked exhausted, haunted.  
He sat down at the bar and looked up, where Lafayette walked over slightly hesitantly, something unusual for them. The boy wouldn’t quite meet Lafayette’s eyes. Alexander stared. Aaron Burr, down the bar in the other direction, snuck glances. Even Hercules, who was usually ensconced in his piano playing, was distracted by the scene.  
The boy was either oblivious or very good at acting oblivious. “Give me whatever you have. I don’t care. Just make me forget.” His voice was raspy and breathy.  
“ID, please,” Lafayette said. It didn’t matter how relaxed Lafayette could be. They weren’t going to serve alcohol to underage children. At least at this bar.  
The boy’s fist clenched and unclenched. “I… I forgot mine. At home.”  
Lafayette could have laughed. “I don’t believe you. Sorry, ami, you look 15.”  
“I’m 19,” the boy protested. Then he stopped. “Oh. Yeah.” Then he coughed a little and dropped his head onto the table.  
Alexander watched curiously as Lafayette puttered around behind the bar. After about two minutes, they passed a steaming mug across the table at the boy.  
“Hot chocolate,” they told the boy. “Not quite beer, but it gets the job done.”  
The boy glared at Lafayette, but lifted his head and reached out his one arm to grab the mug. He took a sip.  
All was quiet, except for the music, for a long time. Silently, the bar’s regulars watched the boy. He’d quietly sip his hot chocolate, and occasionally they would see a tear drip onto the wood of the bar, staining the wood darker where they landed.  
“Is all well?” Lafayette asked.  
The boy hunched over even more. They couldn’t hear anything, but they saw as the boy’s shoulders started shaking, slowly at first, then heavily, uncontrollably. He did not speak. As he shook harder, though, you could hear him gasping for breath.  
“My goodness, mon ami,” Lafayette said, their voice dropping to a gentle tenor. Alexander scooted a seat closer, but did not dare touch the boy, although that was his instinct. Aaron looked shaken. Hercules played his music as comfortingly as possible.  
When the boy’s tears finally slowed to a stop, Lafayette, the best with tears of the bunch, said, “Would you like to talk about it?”  
The boy just shrugged one shoulder.  
Alexander noticed how he favored the one side, and asked, “Are you injured?”  
He just did his one-shoulder shrug again. He sniffed and dropped his head back onto the table.  
“Well, mon ami,” Lafayette said. “It’s nearly 1 am. We’re about to close. Do you have a place you should be going? Alexander, Hercules, and myself, we’d be happy to escort you.”  
The boy shook his head and whimpered softly.  
Lafayette was filled with pity. “Do you have nowhere to go?”  
Another shake of the head.  
Lafayette, Alexander, and Hercules exchanged some looks.  
“Well, mon ami,” Lafayette told the boy. “You’re welcome to take our empty bedroom.”  
The boy looked up, with hope shining in his damp eyes. He blinked, and it was gone. “No,” he croaked. “I couldn’t… I don’t want to intrude. I’ll just…”  
“Live behind a dumpster?” Alexander deadpanned. “I’ve tried that, man, it’s not fun. Seriously, it’s fine. Laf is loaded, anyway.”  
The boy looked around at the four people still left in the bar. At Hercules, who was pulling himself out from behind the piano, gave him a soft smile. At Alexander, who had some sort of excitement glimmering in his gaze. At Lafayette, who seemed genuine enough. And at Aaron, who rolled his eyes, shrugged, and said, “It’s none of my business. I just wanted a beer.”  
The boy nodded.  
“Good, good,” Lafayette said with a grin. “Je m’appelle Lafayette. You can call me Laf.”  
“Alexander Hamilton,” the Hispanic man with his hair in a ponytail introduced.  
“I’m Hercules Mulligan,” said the piano man, who was huge in stature, had an arrestingly deep voice, but had a grin so wide that he could never be intimidating. “I need no introduction.”  
“Aaron Burr,” the random dude from the side commented. “I’m really not involved, but I’m in the room, so I might as well be included.”  
“You are the worst, Burr,” Laf groaned. They turned their eyes to the boy, who flinched slightly. “Hey, ami. What’s your name?”  
“John,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly.  
“Excusez-moi?”  
“I’m John.”  
“Well, John, drink your hot chocolate. We should get back to our place before the Redcoats come out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor John. Also, I'm not sure if I'm liking this third-person omniscient thing I've got going on here, but I think it's cool for now.


	3. The boy stays.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John arrives at the apartment. He sleeps. Herc, Laf, and Alexander discuss his presence, make decisions. A little bit of unexpected fluff at the end :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for vague depictions of assault. It's barely a paragraph, but if you feel like you need to skip it, go ahead. Please. Also, I borrowed the idea of John having asthma from Jack of Hearts by I_Will_Gladly_Join_The_Fight , so thanks man

“Here we are,” Alexander announced as the four of them entered the apartment.  
John looked around the entryway and gave a smile. It was small, but it seemed genuine.  
Alexander could have melted, but instead he laughed and said, “I told you Laf was loaded. They’re like, French nobility or some shit. You don’t even want to know how many names they have.”  
“Shush, Hamilton,” Lafayette grumbled. “You’re just jealous because your name is boring.”  
Hercules laughed.  
Alexander fumed and spun on Herc. “Hey, you have nothing to say, Mr. Disney Princess.”  
“First, Hamilton, Hercules is not a princess. Second…” Hercules frowned.  
Alexander and Laf laughed. “Some things never get old,” Lafayette said.  
“Hey,” Hercules said. “I think we’re forgetting something.” He turned to John and said, “His name’s the lamest of all!”  
John frowned, but Lafayette chuckled. “It means he likes you, John. Only Herc’s favorites have the right to get roasted at every turn.”  
John smiled.  
“Now,” Lafayette said. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom. Hercules can show you there. He’s the only one who’s ever in it. Good luck navigating around all the exercise equipment.”  
“Laf’s still mad about tripping over one of Herc’s weights,” Alexander explained as Lafayette glared at Hercules. “Don’t worry about them. Come on, I’ll take you upstairs.”  
John wrapped his bad arm around his waist and silently followed Alexander. When they got to the room, Alexander flipped on the light switch, revealing a room with exercise equipment in three corners and a sewing machine in another. There was a bed in the middle that looked very out-of-place. On the wall was that lame old poster with the cat hanging by its claws saying, “Believe.”  
“So you don’t have anything?” Alexander asked. He didn’t wait for a response. “I guess not. That’s fine, you can borrow some of Laf’s clothes. They have too many. There’s a bathroom behind that door. I think there’s a bottle of toothpaste in the medicine cabinet but you might need to use your finger as a toothbrush for now. There’s a closet in the hall with towels and whatnot. Anyway, sleep well.”  
John nodded. “Thanks.” His voice felt caught in his throat. His vocal chords were kind of sore. It worked fine, because this man talked non-stop.  
“Really, it’s no problem. If you need anything at all, just tell one of us. Are you sure your arm’s okay? And your neck? Dude, if you’re injured, you should really get it checked out.”  
“I can’t pay,” John rasped. “It’s okay. The bruises will go away. I’ve had worse.”  
Alexander could have cried. The boy seemed so casual about it all. What possibly could have happened to this kid?  
But instead, he just said, “Good night, John.” He left the room and closed the door.

Out in the hallway, Laf and Herc were busy bickering about the same old things.  
“I pay most of the rent. Just clean it up once in awhile, is all I ask,” Laf said.  
“I do clean it up!” Herc defended. “But I can’t use them and still leave them sitting cleanly in the closet, can I?”  
“Oh, shut up, you two,” Alexander groaned. “You bicker like an old married couple, I swear.” He couldn’t stay mad, though. He moved his eyes back and forth between the two and wiggled his eyebrows.  
Lafayette and Hercules looked at each other. In unison, they stated, “Gross.”  
And that was that.  
“Alright, amis,” Laf began, their voice dropping to a whisper. “What are the thoughts on the new guy?”  
“He’s kind of cute,” Alexander said.  
“Shhhh,” Laf whispered. “Gosh, Alexander, could you be any louder?”  
“Sorry,” Alexander said, his voice barely softer.  
“He looked pretty spooked,” Herc said. “He kept looking over his shoulder as he walked in.”  
“Speaking of his shoulder,” Alexander replied, “you could tell he was in pain. I asked him about it in his room and he said that he couldn’t pay to get it looked at. He said he’d had worse.”  
“There’s so much more to this story,” Laf said. “Why is he even in New York? He has literally nothing except the clothes on his back. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. He was definitely trying to cover a Southern accent. And he asked me to make him ‘forget.’ What does a 19-year-old kid need to forget?”  
“I could pose some theories,” Alexander deadpanned. Alexander had seen way too much by the time he was 12. His father left, his mother died from a disease that should’ve killed him, too. And then, when he was older, a hurricane hit the desolate island that he lived on, basically destroying everything. It should’ve destroyed his future, too, but he worked harder than anybody else and managed to get himself on a boat to New York City where he lived behind a dumpster until he met George Washington, the owner of To Freedom, who took him in. Soon, Alexander had earned himself a scholarship to Columbia University to study law.  
“Sorry, Alexander,” Laf said. “My point is, who is this kid? And what is he doing in my house?”  
“You invited him, Laf,” Hercules replied with a smirk.  
“You know what I mean, Disney Princess.”  
Before Hercules could jump across the room at Laf, Alexander said, “So what’s our plan? Obviously this kid needs our help.”  
“We can call Martha,” Herc suggested. “She can look at his physical health, at least.”  
“And maybe we can see if she can get any information out of him,” Alexander agreed.  
“And I think the boy should stay,” Laf decided, “at least for a while. We can’t just dump him out by himself.”  
“So the boy stays?” Herc asks.  
“The boy stays,” Laf confirms.

While Lafayette, Hercules, and Alexander were discussing him in the living room, John was exploring his bathroom. He did find the toothpaste, and did use his finger as a toothbrush. He peed. He looked at the shower and decided he’d take one in the morning.  
Then he went out of the bathroom and sat on his bed. He couldn’t even lift his arm. His shoulder throbbed monstrously. John closed his eyes.  
_John barely registered what was happening. He felt hands on his chest, shoving him. He stumbled backwards and fell into the wall, his shoulder cracking and grinding. He bit his tongue to stifle a scream. Hands wrapped around his neck._  
His eyes flew open and John immediately shoved his fist in his mouth to avoid making noise. His chest heaved as he struggled for air. He felt like he couldn't breathe.  
John groaned. He left his inhaler in the truck, with his bag. John tried to relax. Anxiety always made his asthma worse. He tried to focus on what was around him.  
He could hear muffled voices from the living room and he knew they were talking about him.  
John swung his legs onto the bed and lay back on the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he started thinking.  
He didn’t want to intrude on the lives of these three people. He knew he had nowhere else to go, and Alexander had promised it was no problem, but still, John felt guilty. Who was he to impose? These people had perfectly happy, calm lives. John’s life was a mess. He didn’t have anywhere to live. He had turned his back on his family, his hometown, his friends, however few they were. And there was always that chance that his ex would find him.  
He forced that last thought out of his mind. He worried about hurting these people. He had a habit of doing that. Hurting them. He didn’t want to hurt anybody else.  
But he was so tired. He hadn’t slept the whole way from Charleston, and he had walked/staggered the last twenty miles. His legs ached and his head was pounding, along with his other injuries.  
John felt his eyes slip closed, and then he was asleep on top of the covers.  
He hadn’t even remembered to turn off the light.

Later, when Alexander walked by to get to his own bedroom, he noticed the light slipping out from under the door. He frowned. It had been over an hour since he had left John. Couldn’t he sleep? Softly, he tapped his knuckle on the wood of the door. When there was no answer, he tentatively twisted the knob and pulled.  
He was greeted with the sight of John, asleep, his mouth slightly open. His shoes were still on his feet. His hair was splayed out across the pillow.  
Alexander smiled. John looked so much younger when he was asleep. There weren’t those dark shadows beneath his eyes.  
Quietly, so as not to wake him, Alexander tiptoed toward the bed. He unlaced John’s shoes, chuckling softly at the mud all over them, and gently slid them off his feet. John didn’t even stir.  
Alexander went outside, to the linens closet, and grabbed a blanket. When he came back, he tossed it gently across John’s body.  
When Alexander pulled back, he looked at John’s face. John made a soft noise, the crease between his eyebrows returning.  
As gently as he remembered his mother being, Alexander swept a hand across John’s forehead, brushing the hair aside. John kicked out one of his legs, and the crease disappeared again. Five seconds later, he was back to being sound asleep.  
Alexander smiled. As he left the room, he flicked off the light switch, and pulled the door closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing, I was not quite prepared for Alexander's cuteness at the end, I gotta say. But I actually really like it, so cool. Our poor John. I torture him :.-( But he's gonna make some cutie friends! Sorry that my update schedule is not a schedule yet. I kind of write fast. Haha, love you guys. Comment, please!! And kudos is always nice. Love, Kat


	4. I can't get my damn shirt off, man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We check in with good old Aaron Burr. Then John has a little struggle. Hercules saves the day with his pair of trusty fabric scissors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I kinda feel bad for John because his life really sucks right now... but happy reading! (???)

Aaron Burr showed up outside apartment 207 at promptly 2 o’clock. He reached to the top of the door frame, where he felt around for a second before pulling off the not-so-secret spare key that was unofficially his.   
He let himself into the cozy apartment, softly calling, “Theo?”  
“Aaron,” said Theodosia, a modestly beautiful young woman, from the couch in corner. She stood from her seat and leapt toward Aaron, pulling him close for a kiss.  
When they broke away, Aaron said, “You’re sure he’s gone?”  
“He’s on business in LA, darling. He’s gone.”  
Aaron still felt anxious, but instead of repeating the question, he gave Theodosia another kiss. “Okay, darling. Let’s go to bed.”

John couldn’t get his shirt off.  
He was sitting on the floor in his bathroom. His shoulder hurt even worse this morning. Whenever he tried lift his arm to remove his t-shirt, his shoulder seized up and he had to stop.  
 _Just be a man, John. Take it off. It’s just a little pain._  
John felt like crying again, but he had done too much of that in the past 48 hours, so that left him with two options. He could skip the shower, or he could swallow his pride and ask for help.  
The issue was, if he let somebody else help him, they’d see him with his shirt off. John wanted that least of all.  
He just wanted to take a shower. He felt so icky. Was being clean too much to ask?  
A knock sounded on the door. “Hey, John, it’s Herc. If you’re going to shower, I have some of Laf’s clothes for you to change into afterward, okay? Do you have a towel?”  
John sighed. “Nope.”  
“That’s fine, I’ll grab you one.” There was a long pause, then the voice returned. “Got it. Are you naked?” Herc chuckled.  
“No.” John had the passing thought that he should get up off the floor, but it was too late.  
He watched idly as Herc opened the door, looked down, and saw John sitting on the floor cradling his arm.  
“Um. John? Everything okay?”  
John laughed, but it wasn’t a humored laugh. It was more of a hysterical laugh. “I can’t get my damn shirt off, man.” And then he laughed some more, until he was gasping for air. “Shit, man, I forgot my inhaler.” And he laughed some more.  
Herc had no idea what to do. “Um. Do you want help?”   
John coughed and nodded.  
Herc kneeled down awkwardly next to John. “Is it because of your shoulder?”  
John nodded. “It won’t like…”  
Herc surveyed the object of interest. It was just a plain black, long-sleeved cotton t-shirt. “Yep, we’re going to have to cut it off. I hope you don’t care too much about this shirt.”  
“It’s all I have, but whatever. If Laf’s okay with sharing.”  
Herc just waved a hand. “I’ll get some scissors.”  
Two minutes later, Herc returned with a pair of fabric scissors. “You’re lucky you live with a fashion major,” he said with a devious grin.  
“You’re a fashion major?” John asked. When Hercules nodded, John said, in awe, “Awesome.”  
“Yep. I could make even Alexander look good. Now, let’s get to work. I’m going to basically cut down the center of your back. That’s going to be the safest way for you, at least. Tell me if I’m hurting you.” Herc leaned forward and took hold of John’s shirt collar. Just before he started cutting, John stopped him.  
“Wait, Herc,” John said with a sigh.  
“What?” Herc groaned. “You have any better ideas?”  
“No, you’re fine, it’s just…” John trailed off.  
Herc’s features softened. “Yeah?”  
“It’s just, it’s not… I’m not… _pretty_.”  
“John, you’re a stick. Don’t you start having body image problems. Damn, I deal with that enough with Laf…”  
John felt sick.  
Herc felt confused.  
“Fine,” John mumbled. “Just cut.”  
That he did.  
When Herc went to pull apart the fabric, he paused.  
The skin on John’s back was barely skin anymore. Instead of your occasional blemish, there were scars upon scars upon scars.  
Where the hell had they come from?  
John’s heart was pounding so hard, he felt nauseous.  
Herc didn’t make a noise. Instead, he acted like he didn’t see anything and just kept peeling John’s shirt off.  
“You still good?” Herc asked as he slid the sleeve from John’s bad arm, noticing how his jaw worked as he aimed to hide his discomfort.  
Internally, Herc took note of how swollen John’s shoulder looked. He observed a few short, straight scars forming on his upper arm. But Herc didn’t look for long.  
John studied his hands. “Do you… does it repulse you?”  
A beat passed before Hercules gave a forced laugh, something closer to a bark. “Repulse me? You? No. But you smell like ass. Take a shower.”  
Herc walked out the door and closed it behind him.  
He slowly meandered into the living room, where Alexander and Laf were already sitting. He flopped down on the couch, sighed, and told his friends everything he had seen.

As soon as he couldn’t hear Hercules’s heavy footfalls anymore, John released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.   
He locked down that whole humiliating experience in some section of his brain where he couldn’t get to it as he stripped out of the rest of his clothing. He turned on the shower and turned the hot water up as high as it would go. He stepped in, letting the scalding water cleanse him of all the filth.  
He quickly got off all of the visible dirt and scrubbed himself with one arm until he didn’t smell like the meat truck he had hitched a ride in.  
When all that was gone, he still felt dirty. It didn’t matter that all his external dirt was gone. He was disgusting on the inside. He was revolting. If the three people he was staying with could see all the grime inside of him, they’d never want to see John again.  
John kept scrubbing his body. He tried to get every single nook and cranny. When that didn’t work, he tried again. But he couldn’t get clean. He wouldn’t get clean.  
The tears came again, a sudden onslaught of emotion that he should’ve seen coming. They made him so angry. He was 19. He was John fucking Laurens. He wasn’t 5, and Laurens men don’t cry. John had never cried before, no matter how shitty his life had been. But ever since he left Charleston, he did. He cried and he cried. Then he would stop for about an hour. And then he would cry again.  
He tried to fight it now, but it was no use. Instead, he sat down on the floor of the shower, letting the hot water run over the top of his head. He knew nobody could hear him, so he didn’t try to be quiet. He hoped that his huge, gut-wrenching sobs would get rid of the dirt.  
They didn’t.  
John turned off the shower. He could stay in there for an hour, but it still wouldn’t be long enough, and he didn’t want to use all of the water.  
Shaking, John rose from his huddle on the ground. He wrapped himself in his towel, stepped out of the shower stall, and plopped back down on the shower mat.  
He noticed the remains of his t-shirt still on the floor. Herc must not have taken it to throw it out.  
With his good arm, John reached out and lifted his tattered shirt. He brought it to his damp face and smelled it.   
It was disgusting. It smelled like dirt and meat trucks and fear. It made John’s stomach turn a little, but he didn’t put it down.  
Instead, he looked at his old shirt. He’d had that thing for years. He didn’t remember where it had come from. It didn’t really mean much to him.  
But it was one of the last things he still had from Charleston. And it was destroyed.  
How symbolic, John thought.  
He buried his face in that disgusting rag and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a real happy ending. Comment, please! Also my birthday was yesterday and I got a Hamilton piano book and now I'm satisfied.


	5. Laf burnt the crepes again. We're going to buy donuts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Aaron Burr blurb (or Burr-b :-P). Then Laf can't cook so Alexander and John go buy donuts. They talk a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has virtually no angst. It's a miracle! Also there was this huge thunderstorm while I was writing today and it was shaking my whole shithole of a house and I was kind of wishing I was writing one of those cute fluffy scenes where Alexander is scared of storms. Okay... happy reading!

Aaron lay awake next to Theodosia for a very long time.

There were so many questions. And even though all he wanted was Theodosia, it was as if every time he came over here, the questions banged harder inside his brain.

What if Prevost showed up? What if Theodosia decided she liked him better? What if, what if, what if.

Aaron loved her. He knew that. But also _she's married._ Not just dating, or engaged. _Married._

God.

****

Something was burning. Or burnt.

Lafayette greeted John with an enthusiastic "Good morning sunshine!!"as John walked into the living room.

John, who was now wearing a  _button-down_ shirt to avoid further mishaps, waved and gave a small smile, then frowned, trying to determine the source of the smell of char.

"Laf, what did you do, stick a match in the pan?" Herc called from the kitchen.

"Laf burnt the crepes again," Alexander explained bluntly. "We're going to buy donuts. Come on, John, you can walk with me."

John just nodded at the order and ran to get his shoes.

When he came out, Laf took one look at him and said, "You don't have a coat, do you?"

John shrugged.

"Well, that will not do," Laf said. "It's freezing outside." They ran to the hallway and returned two minutes later with a bulky black coat, two thick gloves, and one of those goofy hats with the ear flaps and the poof on the top. " _Parfait,_ " they announced.

Without being asked, Laf and Alexander, who was bundled up himself, helped insert John's injured arm into the coat. Then Alexander, amid protests, slid John's hands into the gloves while Laf yanked the hat onto John's head.

"I really don't need this," John insisted, even though he was already in it anyway.

"Sure you do," Laf said. "Honestly, ami, it's like, 5 degrees outside."

"Yeah," said Alexander, glaring at Laf. "And _somebody_ is still making _Alexander_ go get the donuts even though _they_ burnt breakfast."

Laf grabbed Alexander by the shoulders, turning him and shoving him toward the door. "Have a safe trip," they exclaimed as they forced John and Alexander out of the apartment.

John and Alexander went downstairs and left the building. It was indeed freezing.

"Damn it," Alexander stated halfway through the walk. "I hate the cold."

Shivering, John said, "Me too. Whatever God or scientific thingy that came up with the idea needs some counseling."

Alexander laughed. "I swear, I've lived in New York for two years and I'm still not used to the winters. Laf loves it, they should be the one out here freezing their ass off." Alexander shook his head.

"Where are you from originally?" John asked.

Alexander stared at the ground. "Um, Nevis. It's--"

"--in the Caribbean, yeah, I know." John suddenly blushed. "Sorry! I didn't mean to be a smart ass, I just, I don't know, I knew that--"

"Hey, whoa, man, it's okay! It's actually awesome that you know, I mean, every time I say that, everybody's all like 'what the fuck, is that a disease?' and then I have to explain that I come from a dirt-poor island that nobody's ever heard of before... whoa, you didn't need to hear that, did you? Sorry. Sometimes I get overexcited, shoot off at the mouth..." Alexander giggled. "So where are _you_ from, 'John'?" He made the air quotes around "John."

"What, don't you believe that's my name?" John asked. No one needed to know that he was trying to dodge the question.

"No... it's just, if you were going to come up with a fake name, that's a pretty easy one. I bet you twenty bucks your last name's Smith."

"It's not," John said. "You owe me twenty bucks."

"Prove it," Alexander demanded.

"I... I can't really..."

"Then what's your real last name?"

John paused and coughed a little bit. If Alexander had known his _real_ last name, he'd hate him. He'd make the connection, like everybody does. And then, guessing by the pride flags all over the apartment, Alexander would assume that John was just like his father and then promptly dump him back on the street.

Alexander looked at the expression of John's face and laughed. "It is Smith! I knew it!"

"Um, no." _DO SOMETHING, JOHN!_ his head screamed. His throat felt tight. "Um... I'm from South Carolina..."

"Nice diversion, John. That's interesting. How did you end up in NYC?" Alexander redirected them into a tiny donut shop.

When they got into the warm air, John suddenly kind of fell against the wall. John would usually be pretty annoyed by this, but it was great timing.

"Hey, you okay?" Alexander asked, totally panicked for a second, his question forgotten. He didn't even know CPR!

"Uh..." John coughed. "Yep. Asthma. It's okay. It's the cold."

"What?! And you didn't think to mention that you can't breathe? That would've been good to know before I made you walk six blocks in the freezing cold. Do you have like, an inhaler, or something?"

"Is everything okay?" A girl wearing a pink visor and an apron with a donut plastered right on the front came over.

"Hey, Eliza," Alexander said, almost as breathlessly as John. "Yes, John. Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," John said, trying not to cough. "I... I have an inhaler... well, had... I kind of lost it..."

"How do you lose something that your life depends on?" Alexander exclaims vehemently.

"It's fine, I promise," John said, once again not really answering the question. He took a mostly-solid breath. "See? It's okay. Let's just buy donuts."

"Are you sure?" The girl named Eliza asked. "If you die in the store, that might be bad for business."

John stood up straighter. "Yeah, I'm fine. I promise. Do you two know each other?"

Alexander laughed. "Yep, funny story. I dated Eliza for what, 8 months? Then we broke up because..."

"... because I'm a hardcore lesbian," Eliza finished. She offered her hand. "Elizabeth Schuyler. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm John." John said. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Schuyler? Like the senator?" _Shit,_ he thought. _I'm becoming the very thing I hate... but at least Philip Schuyler isn't a homophobic asshat._

"Ugh, don't remind me," Eliza groaned. "That's all I ever hear."

John laughed to cover a cringe. It was a little bit of a wheeze -- Alexander stared at him like he might explode -- but he played it off. "Trust me, I get it."

"Come on, let's buy donuts," Alexander said. "I'm starving."

About three minutes later, John and Alexander had a box of a dozen donuts.

"Hey, we should meet up later," Alexander told Eliza as he and John moved toward the door.

"Sure, yeah," Eliza said. "I'll bring the sisters."

John and Alexander stepped back out into the cold. John was mostly recovered from earlier, but Alexander still watched him like a hawk on the way home.

"So you never did answer me," Alexander said. "How did one South Carolinian like you end up in the greatest city in the world?"

"You're asking me?" John said, adeptly deflecting the question -- that's something you learn, living with a politician. "I should be asking you."

"But I asked first," Alexander said as they neared the apartment building.

"Fine." John hesitated. "Well, um... there were a few things I needed to get away from, so I snuck in the back of a meat truck that was going to New York--"

"A _meat truck?_ " Alexander exclaimed, interrupting. "Dude, that's nasty. Were you like, in there with pork tenderloin?"

John grimaced. "Pretty much. Now, if you keep interrupting, I'm not going to tell you the story."

Alexander grinned sheepishly.

"Anyway, I wanted to get to the place where I was least likely to be found. I had a small bag with me. Basically, it was just clean underwear and my inhaler and my art stuff. About five hours of bouncing around and narrowly avoiding concussions later, the driver came back to check his cargo and realized that there was a human in the back. He like, flipped out for about two minutes, but then I think he took pity on me. He let me ride in the front then. But I didn't sleep for like the whole trip, so when he dropped me off about twenty miles outside the city I was so exhausted and stupid that I left my bag in his truck. I kind of limped the last twenty miles."

" _Damn_ ," Alexander said. "And I thought _my_ story was eventful. How long did it take you to walk the rest?"

"Like, 10 hours. If I had been awake, it would've been shorter, but I was kind of trudging along. And I didn't want to go too fast because I didn't want to have an asthma attack."

"Wow, man." The two turned into the apartment building.

"So, what's your story?" John asked, eager to get the spotlight off of him.

"Me? Oh. Yeah. Great story. I was born in the Caribbean, your typical bastard-son-of-a-whore deal. My dad left when I was 10. Then my mom and I got pretty sick. She... she died." Alexander coughed to cover the tremor in his voice, but John still heard it. "Yeah. That. I managed to get better, somehow. Then, as if I needed more shit in my life, a hurricane came, devastation reigned... my future was basically shot. So, I worked my ass off. Educated myself. Wrote a nice poem which made people realize that I was actually pretty smart. So the island people put together some money and I finally ended up on a boat to New York."

John whistled. "You said _mine_ was more eventful. Dang, man. How old _are_ you?"

"I'm 20. But I think my mind is older." Alexander smirked.

John frowned. "Were you trying to make a Common reference? Because I think you're a little old for that, man."

Alexander grinned and said, "Hey, you got it, didn't you?"

They make it up the stairs of the building and Alexander lets them into the room.

"We're back with the holey round heart-attack-inducing pastries!" Alexander announced as they walked in.

"Yes!"Lafayette cried. "I'm sooo hungry!"

"It's your fault, Laf," Hercules muttered.

"Shush, Herc. Let's eat!"

Over donuts, the four of them caught up. Or, at least, John learned the general backstories of the three people.

"Wait, Herc, so you're 27, and you're still in college?"

"I was a Marine," Herc said smugly.

"Thanks for your service," John said out of habit.

"See?" Herc said pointedly at Laf and Alexander. "This kid knows how to show some respect to a veteran of foreign war."

Laf laughed. "Herc, I sent you so much shit while you were gone, _you_ should be the one thanking _me._ " They turned to John and explained, "Herc has been trying to get us to call him 'Lance Corporal Mulligan' for like three years."

"Point is," Herc interrupted, "I was a Marine, and then I got out, used my GI Bill to pay for NYU. Now I study clothes."

"Ah," John said.

The talking went on for a while. It was all generally light-hearted, until Alexander, the King of Asking People Personal Questions Too Early in a Friendship, does what he's best at.

"So, John," Alexander said. "How did you hurt your shoulder?"

 _He asks this like it's NOT a totally loaded question,_ John thought.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. It's not really an over-donuts topic."

Alexander heard John's tone and, for once, dropped the subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a few days to update this (if I have anything in common with Hamilton, it's that I write like all the time anywhere, but I didn't have time this week). Also, I'M SUPER PUMPED BECAUSE AT SCHOOL WE'RE DOING INTO THE WOODS FOR MUSICAL THIS SEASON and auditions are coming up soon and I've got a pretty good chance of being the witch because I'm the one of the only good contraltos in our school's theater program (so, naturally, I'm the evil witch in everything which is annoying as shit but oh well)... comments and kudos are greatly appreciated... :-/


	6. This... might be real, honest-to-God love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the rest of the Schuyler sisters... Herc and Peggy are my favorite honestly I love them together... we get a little more on John's (unhappy) backstory... Alexander turns protective and I love him like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of abuse, vague references to rape/non-con... stay safe out there, amis
> 
> I'm not French, idk why I said amis but I think it's kind of cute so I'll leave it.

A knock sounded on the door at about 2 p.m.  
Alexander leapt to his feet, running to the door. Grabbing the door and flinging it open, he shouted through the house, “Our favorite trio of females is here!”  
Herc came running down the stairs, practically shaking the whole apartment building. He stopped at the landing, where one of the three girls jumped into his arms. He twirled her around, placing a kiss on her cheek.  
“Babe!” she shouted, louder than you could expect out of such a small body. She kissed him back, on the lips. They held the kiss longer than what seemed necessary, having only been apart for less than 24 hours.  
The tallest of the three girls reached over and tapped Herc on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, but I honestly don’t appreciate you sucking my sister’s face in my presence.”  
They broke the kiss, the girl laughing loudly and Herc chuckling softly.  
“Hi, John!” Eliza, one of the three girls, said, noticing the boy at the top of the stairs.  
He gave a shy smile. “Hey, Eliza.” With his good arm, he gave a slight wave to the girls. His injured shoulder was still bugging him a lot, and he could tell that the others that he was staying with were refraining from mentioning it after he so quickly shut Alexander down when he tried to bring it up.  
The three girls were all escorted into the apartment. When the whole group was situated nicely, sprawled across the couch and the fluffy chairs and the carpet, introductions were made.  
“John, you know Eliza,” Alexander said, sitting next to John on the floor. “The tall one’s Angelica, don’t cross that one.” Leaning very close, he whispered to John, “But if you get on her good side, she’ll protect you till her deathday.” Then he nodded to the last girl, who was sitting comfortably on Herc’s lap. “And Peggy.”  
Peggy huffed. “Why am I always the afterthought?” She rolled her eyes.  
Herc nudged her and said, “You’re always first to me.”  
Laf mocked gagging. “Oh my _gosh_. You’d think they’d get over the honeymoon phase at some point. They make me ill.”  
“You’re just jealous, Laf,” Herc retorted. It seemed he did not care who he was disgusting.  
“I take it you guys are a thing?” John said with a laugh.  
Peggy giggled. “Yep. He’s perfect. I never thought I’d meet a straight man with such an eye for clothing. He really keeps me looking pretty.”  
Herc grinned. “You don’t need me to make you look good, babe.”  
Laf just groaned and slumped across the arm of his chair.  
John laughed with the rest of them, but he secretly thought that Herc and Peggy were a great combination. Herc was huge in stature but generally just a huge softie. Peggy was little, but John could tell she could probably kick just about anybody’s ass in the proper situation. And you should know, John had experience in both giving and receiving the ass-kicking.  
“Well, there you have it,” Alexander concludes. “You’ve met the stunning Schuyler sisters.”  
John looks back and for between the three sisters. After debating saying many, many random things in his head, he simply says, “Um. I’m… John.”  
The girls laughed.  
“We know,” Peggy said. “Alexander calls us this morning, like, ‘hey, ladies, you know there’s this cute boy in our apartment…’”  
All eyes landed on Alexander, who blushed, the crimson reaching all the way to his ears, which could not hide when he had his black hair tied back in his bun all the time.  
“You should know,” Laf said, “that Herc’s the only cis straight person in this room -- besides you, maybe, I don’t know how you identify or how you take it -- so if that’s going to be a problem, you might want to leave.”  
John just sort of watched Lafayette for a long moment. The others watched him just as intently.  
Their curiosity turned to confusion as John started to laugh.  
It wasn’t laughter like laughing at Herc and Peggy’s incessant fluff. It was awkward, borderline-psychotic laughter that was not at all humorous.  
But John just laughed. He laughed until tears streamed down his face, and he was more wheezing than laughing.  
Alexander interrupted first. He, very tentatively, placed a hand on John’s shoulder, saying, “John? Everything okay? Can you breathe?”  
“Yeah,” John gasped. “Yeah, everything’s -- fine. Ohmygosh.”  
“John, what’s so fucking hilarious?” Peggy asked, blunt as ever.  
Slowly, still trying to regain some control over himself, John gasped, “I’m -- very -- _very -- gay_.” As soon as the words fell from John’s mouth, he stopped laughing. He stopped moving at all. He just sort of sat, his eye wide.  
“That solves that problem,” Laf said, breaking the silence. “Well, John, if you haven’t already picked that up, that’s fine with us.”  
“Oh,” John said. “Cool.” He blinked, multiple times.  
Alexander moved his hand, still currently on John’s shoulder, down to squeeze his hand.  
John looked down at his hand, laced with Alexander’s. And around at the smiling faces around him.  
This, for the first time in his life, might be real, honest-to-God love.  
John just didn’t know how to believe it.  
* * *  
Meeting George was a hazy memory in John’s mind.  
He remembers how scared he was, because George was a boy. John had dated people before, but they were never boys. No. Boys didn’t date boys. That wasn’t how it worked. Or, that’s what his dad had told him.  
He remembers how hard his dad had been being on him those past few weeks. How it hadn’t escalated to violence yet, but the anticipation was worse because John knew what was coming, but it just wouldn’t fucking _come_.  
He remembers how nice George had seemed. How comfortable his bed had been.  
Other than that, though, John remembered very little. It was such a blur. It was like, one day, he was scared and angry and alone, walking down an empty road in Charleston. And before he knew it, he was in. so. deep.  
Something had attracted him to George. Maybe it had been the fact that George had actually wanted him. The fact that a boy had actually wanted him. Or maybe it was just that his father hadn’t known. That George was something that was his, not Henry’s.  
Like I said. Hazy. John just couldn’t remember.  
Instead, he remembered being in, so deep, that sometimes it felt easier to just swim down. He remembered how George started being insanely angry one moment, then perfectly amiable the next. And how the angry-then-amiable would turn into angry-then-ready-to-fuck. He remembered feeling like he should please George. Because George had loved him. Or, at least, he had told John so.  
John remembered that night that he hadn’t wanted to. He was so tired. And his dad was being so mean. He just wanted to go to sleep, wanted George to hold him tightly, clothes on, so that John could just bury his head into George’s shoulder and feel safe for once.  
But George didn’t want to do that. And he didn’t want to listen when John said no.  
John remembered how defenseless he had felt. How every night, he’d be defenseless over and over and over again. He remembered how he had been so angry. He had used his fists fine in high school. He had never lost a fight. But now his fists were useless, he was helpless. Helpless with his father, and with George.  
John remembered how desperately he had wanted to leave. But he hadn’t deserved to leave. He was no longer innocent, no longer pure. No one else would want him, not when he was tainted. Not when he was weak.  
George wanted him. Maybe he was a little more aggressive than usual… but he wanted John. Nobody else did.  
But then George had gone too far. John remembered that clearest of all. He remembered the pain exploding his shoulder, how he hadn’t been able to breathe with George’s hands wrapped around his neck. He remembered running. He remembered running as fast as he could and then nearly passing out in a ditch because of his asthma. He remembered taking a hit from his inhaler and then getting back up. He remembered ignoring how tight his chest felt, just running until he found that meat truck and hopped in the back, not caring how terrible it smelled because John was gross too, he was disgusting. He just sat in the back of that truck and bounced around and tried to  breathe and sobbed because he hurt, his head, his lungs, his neck, his shoulder, his _heart_. He sobbed because he was leaving everything he had ever known, leaving his little sister to the mercy of his awful father without even a word, and because he thought George had _loved him_.  
And John remembered one last thing. He remembered promising himself that he would never make that mistake again. He would never let anybody cheat him again, fake love.  
He would not let anybody hurt him again.  
* * *  
Alexander worried about John. He knew that it was slightly irrational, considering he didn’t even know John’s last name.  
But something, somebody had hurt him. And they hadn’t just bruised his neck or broken his shoulder, they had crushed something inside that poor boy, something that no fancy machine could detect.  
And as he watched John, he saw caution, hesitation… and not the Aaron Burr kind. No, this had been instilled into him by fear and pain.  
Somebody had caused John this pain. Somebody had caused whatever made him laugh so hysterically at the words “I’m gay,” whatever had made him sob so uncontrollably in To Freedom the night before, whatever had made him toss up this brick wall that separated John from Laf, from Herc, from Angelica or Eliza or Peggy. From Alexander.  
Alexander knew very little about John, but he knew _himself_. And he knew one thing.  
He would not let anybody hurt John again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh, it was going okay then it got angsty. poor john. <\- that is the new unofficial title, y'all. I hope you guys are loving Peggy and Herc like I am right now.
> 
> George=King George III, not GWash. I love GWash. King George III can go flush himself down the toilet.
> 
> Hey, also, guys, if this seems more rated M to y'all then I'm considering changing it, so tell me, because I want to make sure I'm giving proper advertisement. But also, I might not. Because I'm a teen. So, I feel like, as long as I don't graphically describe a lot of these things, then I'm okay. Plus, one of my biggest pet peeves as a teenaged writer is people thinking that I write about things that are too mature. I don't just write fanfiction, guys, I write legitimate stuff and, along with intensive research, I write fiction about abuse and rape because this shit legitimately happens to teens and I'm tired of adults acting like it doesn't. So. Yeah. Just, tell me if you're uncomfortable. If I'm being honest, there's a chance things won't change anyway, but feedback is always important in my decision-making.
> 
> I love comments and kudos! Thanks for reading, amigos. 
> 
> I take Spanish. My school doesn't offer French.


	7. A little bit of a diversion ~ A Note from the Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not part of the fanfiction, I'm sorry, but some things are more important. If I published it as a one-shot, nobody would read it, and this needs to be read. I promise I'm working to get the next chapter up. It's been so difficult to fit it in lately. 
> 
> To my transgender friends and acquaintances and strangers, I'm sorry. Words fail. I'm so, so sorry. Remember that you're loved, that the actions of a certain orange man do not change that. You're all beautiful and special and you mean so much to all of us. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.

Dear friends,

Since I have started reading work from this fandom, I have been consistently impressed by how open and accepting the people on here have been. Gender, race, orientation, and religion have never been of importance. You all are constantly willing to fight for the rights of your friends, no matter who they are or wish to be.

Today, the president of the United States released a series of Twitter posts announcing that transgender people would not be allowed to serve in any military position in our country.

I’m cisgender, so I’m not in the position to say I directly face the consequences of this newest action. But for generations, people in my family have served in the armed forces. They live to serve our country. I’m bisexual, and I strongly wish to serve in the military when I am able. Our country has come so far in allowing all of its citizens to serve. It was once just men. Now it’s women. It was once just straight people. Now it’s people of all orientations. We were making so much progress.

I am stunned by this action taken by our president. It was already difficult for me to come to terms with the fact that I am supposed to be represented by this man. I was angry when he pulled out of the Paris climate accord. I was angry when he failed to affirm Article Five. This is too far for me.

Transgender people in the US are Americans just like anybody else. They deserve to serve their country if they wish. This whole thing about them being a “burden” to the armed forces is just a load of crap and we know it.

I’m a woman and I’m bi, and as of now, I’ll be allowed to serve once I turn 18. Transgender people were on their way to the same right under President Obama. That has reached a sudden halt. If I actively do nothing as the rights of the transgender community, one so closely knit with the bi community, the gay/lesbian community, and so many others, are suddenly stolen from their grasp, what will I do when they take my rights away?

As supporters of the LGBTQ+ community, we cannot be bystanders in this. In a world where we have such a small voice, we need to make ourselves heard. In a world where we are taught to hide in closets, we must rise up and take what is ours. We must stand together. We are stronger together, aren’t we? There are millions of us, and only one President Trump. If we stand together for what we believe in, for change, they can’t stop us.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. I want to apologize to the transgender community for allowing the discrimination. I don’t want to allow it. I try to be open and accepting and I try to stand up for you guys, but I fail. I’m not enough. Alone, I am afraid and I stand to the side. I am so, so sorry. You deserve the world.

I will not stand to the side anymore. After finishing this letter to y’all, I’m going to write a letter to a congressman from my state. I’m going to tell them that they cannot stand for this discrimination. I’m going to let them know that this is a personal attack to so many people. Foremost, it is an attack on the transgender community. Second, it is an attack on the whole LGBTQ community. If they hit one of those initials, they hit all of them. Thirdly, it is an attack on all minorities in this nation. If they can take away the rights of a minority with one signature, they can do it to any one of them. And last, it is an attack on me. I’m not transgender, but I know what the word freedom means to me, and it hurts when we take these steps backwards. I want to see true freedom for everybody in my lifetime. I want my grandchildren to fail to remember a time when everybody wasn’t equal. This is going in the opposite direction.

I encourage all of you to take a break from writing fanfiction and show a congressman from your state what this newest action means to you. Show them why WE CANNOT LET THIS HAPPEN. Ask them to try to remember what freedom really means. To remember what living in the United States is supposed to mean.  
I love all of you guys. I am not going to watch any longer, and neither should you. We need a voice. We should not be silenced any longer.

Love always,  
Kat


	8. Respira.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Schuylers leave and Alexander sets John up for an appointment with our favorite revolutionary mom Martha Washington

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHADY'S BACK... TELL A FRIEND
> 
> Dude I finally wrote something it's a beginning of fall miracle
> 
> tbh though musical+school+just general life=kinda forgetting about fanfiction
> 
> But anyway, here you go

“Alright, I got this,” John said, slowly scanning the faces around the room. “Herc’s straight, Alexander’s bi, Peggy’s pan, Eliza’s gay, Angelica is aromantic and asexual -- her one true love being feminism -- and Laf’s non-binary and also pan. Have I done it?”

Everybody nodded confirmation. 

“You’ve done pretty well,” Peggy said. “So well, in fact, that I think we can next move on to Laf’s full name!”

“Okay, Pegs, that’s enough for now,” Herc cut in. “The poor guy’s only just gotten here. We don’t need to torture him yet.”

Laf scowled.

“As a matter of fact,” Angelica said, preventing Laf from complaining, “it really is time that we get going. We have dinner with the parents, remember?”

Peggy groaned. “Awwwww,” she whined. “Okay. Bye, Herc.” 

Herc and Peggy then began to engage in another public makeout session.

Laf banged their head against the wall. “Somebody, please, separate them?”

Eliza grabbed Peggy’s arm. “Come on, lovebirds, Daddy’s waiting.”

“It was nice meeting you, John,” Angelica said.

“Yeah, you too,” John said with a slight smile.

“Bye!!” Peggy exclaimed.

When the door closed, Herc seemed to deflate.

“Pining already, Herc?” Alexander asked. “You’d think she’d been gone for years, the way you two act when you’re together.”

Herc humphed. “You’re just jealous because you’re not seeing anyone.”

Alexander blushed and got quiet.

“So, John,” Laf started.

“Ooh, be careful, John,” Herc interrupted. “They never have anything good to say when they talk like that.”

“Oh, shush, Herc. I was only going to ask about John’s super-fucking-gayness.”

“Well, that’s not intrusive at all,” John muttered. He looked up at Lafayette. “Yes?”

“Well, I was only wondering if you’d ever had a boyfriend. I mean, not asking for my own purposes, I myself am in a very happy relationship --”

“Yeah, with this French girl that none of us have ever met nor talked to,” Alexander noted. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he said, “We’re starting to wonder if she even exists.”

“Oh, hush. John? You okay?”

John had gone positively white. His hands were shaking, and he took a huge gasp for air like he’d been holding his breath. “Y-Yeah, t-totally.” He cleared his throat and after an awkward thirty seconds, said, “Yeah, I had a boyfriend. Didn’t end well.”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Laf said.

“Yeah, no, it’s okay, I’m just touchy or something today,” John said, although it was obviously not okay. He was still shaking. Then he winced.

“Alright, let’s stop dodging,” Alexander said irritably. “If your shoulder hurts that bad, I don’t understand why you won’t get it checked. I know that whatever caused it was probably pretty traumatic for you, I get that, but you can’t just --”

Knowing that Alexander was probably going to run his mouth off again, Laf interrupted, “Alexander’s point is that we don’t want to see you in this kind of pain. If money is the problem, I can help.”

John frowned. “I’m not just some charity case, guys.”

“We know, John,” Herc said. “This isn’t out of pity. We care about you.”

John stared at the floor.

“Please get it treated,” Laf said gently.

John had gone very still. “I don’t like doctors,” he whispered.

Alexander scooted closer to John. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

John nodded slowly.

Tentatively, Alexander rested his hand on John’s back and began running his hand up and down very slowly. He could feel the muscle in John’s back. There was a lot of it. It was also in knots. “Tell you what. My mom’s a nurse. I’ll get her over here and she’ll check you out. How’s that sound?”

John just nodded.

Alexander kept stroking his back; the knots were starting to loosen. He looked up at Herc and Laf. They seemed surprised. Most of the time, Laf was the one who would eventually get people to let down their guard. They’d done it with Herc, who had his own stuff to deal with, then Alexander.

Naturally, all three of them were surprised when John seemed to feel safest with Alexander.

 

“Are we all on the same page here?” Alexander asked Laf and Herc as they made their way to To Freedom, leaving John with Martha.

“I think so,” Herc said, sliding his beanie onto his head.

“It’s definitely abuse,” Alexander confirmed. “From who, I don’t know. But the bruises and the attitude… that’s a deadly mix there.”

“Somebody in his life is a homophobic asshat, too,” Lafayette added. “My poor child.” Laf made a soft clicking noise of dissent.

“I’m legitimately scared for him, guys,” Hercules said softly. “I don’t know if he’ll ever let us in.”

 

John hadn’t meant to, but he’d let Martha in. Too far.

He only really knew that she had been checking his shoulder, tsking at his winces. Martha told him to take off his shirt so she could assess the swelling. He said no.  
She didn’t push him, and instead she started asking some questions. About him and his home life and his parents, and then they got to the topic of John’s mother.

He was talking about her and he felt suddenly so lonely because even after all of this time he still missed his mom, missed how she used to speak Spanish with him and tell him she loved him and she actually meant it for once.

And Martha was being so nice and he was jealous of Alexander for having her for his mother and then he felt terrible because Alexander hadn’t had it easy. John’s life was probably a cake walk in comparison. Then John felt worse because here he was, whining about nothing when people out there had real problems that they hadn’t caused.

But John was still talking about his mom and Martha was acting like a mom and then John couldn’t breathe and it wasn’t because of his asthma for once. And when he told Martha about the Spanish, _Martha_ started speaking Spanish and for just a millisecond it felt like his mom was there with him again, not dead like he knew she was.

“ _Respira,_ ” Martha murmured to him. Breathe. “ _Uno, dos, tres._ ”

And then John was crying again and he was throwing himself into Martha’s arms even though it hurt his shoulder and then he sobbed, “ _Mamá. La extraño. La necesito._ ” And then he was telling Martha everything, he couldn’t stop it. It was just all falling from his lips like a waterfall. He was telling her about George and his dad and his sister who was named Martha too and how everything hurt, but she couldn’t even understand him because he was crying so hard.

So Martha, the one that was here, just held him gently as not to hurt his shoulder and spoke to him in Spanish that he couldn’t hear, stroking his hair and rocking him slowly.

She didn’t understand much at all. All she caught was “ _Lo siento_ ” and “ _No lo quise. Él no escuchame. No lo quise._ ”

And she knew that whatever had happened to John, he didn’t want it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I'm an Honors Spanish 3 student which means this: I'm pretty good at Spanish, but it's not like I'm fluent, so be generous if I make mistakes, please
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Respira-breathe  
> uno, dos, tres-one, two, three  
> Mamá. La extraño. La necesito.- Mom. I miss her. I need her.  
> Lo siento- I'm sorry  
> No lo quise- I didn't want it  
> Él no escuchame- He didn't listen to me


	9. Did we scare you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter tbh but we finally figure out who the hell the Redcoats are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing to say here except the word abuse is used like twice idk if that's an issue and conversion camp is mentioned once

In the end, Martha said that John would need to go to a doctor. Not only was his shoulder at risk, here, but he needed an inhaler.   
John really hadn’t wanted to go, but he finally agreed under two conditions: his dad wouldn’t know, and Martha would go with him.  
Martha had agreed wholeheartedly. “I would never make you go alone, _querido_. You’re not alone. No one is alone, believe me.”

John was dropped off at To Freedom at around 9 PM. He sat down in the same seat he had been in yesterday -- had he really only been here a day?   
Alexander was sitting in his spot. He had a glass of water with lime in front of him.  
Aaron Burr was nowhere in sight.  
Herc was playing some ragtime tune.  
Laf came from the back and slid John a hot chocolate.  
At 11 PM, when the nightly lull began, Lafayette circled the bar and sat next to Alexander.  
“Join us, ami,” they said, waving John over.  
“What?” he asked, heading down the barstools.   
“Nobody ever comes over here at this time of night,” Laf explained. “It’s my unofficial break. If you’re planning on, how you say, hanging around, there’s a few things you oughtta know.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, before you got here,” Alexander said, launching into storyteller mode, “there were these asshats running down the streets of the city handing out flyers, saying horrible stuff about the LGBTQ community and immigrants and minorities. Called themselves the Redcoats.”  
“Redcoats?”  
“Yeah, they wear these frilly-ass red coats,” Laf deadpanned. “It’s so, and I quote, ‘their comrades don’t see them bleed.’”  
“They wear brown pants when I walk by,” Alexander said with a smirk.  
Laf groaned. “That was awful.”  
“Don’t mind them,” Alexander dismissed. “Anyway, they were encouraging parents to send their kids off to conversion camps and calling people really vulgar names. Now, we were all pissed so we called the cops on ‘em and stuff, but you know how cops are. We were too non-white and the Reds were too rich so nothing was done about it.  
“So one day this one idiot named Seabury was screaming a bunch of bullshit about how marriage is between a man and a woman and whatnot, so I leapt up and started tearing this dude apart… he went ballistic. He was like throwing shit and he pulled a knife and started yelling about how we’re all damned. He had like a total psychotic break in front of our eyes.  
“By that point, the cops couldn’t ignore the situation anymore so they arrested Seabury and then started rounding up the rest of the Redcoats. Turns out there was some huge abuse scandal within the ranks. Their king bolted. Nobody knows where he went.”  
“But anyway, ami,” Laf continued, “they disappeared for awhile, but they have been cropping back up again. This guy named Lee’s back. He has been spewing shit about Washington -- the man who owns this place -- ever since he returned to New York. And he is not the only one.”  
“They’re everywhere,” Alexander warned. “And they’re out for blood. I hate to put this on you so soon, but you need to know. It’s the only way that it’s safe for you. So don’t walk anywhere alone.”  
John just nodded in shock. There were so many gaps in the story. Abuse? The king? John shuddered.  
“Do not be so worried, ami,” Laf comforted. “They shall not hurt you with us around. You shall be totally safe.”  
Alexander nodded.  
John still felt nervous. Had he stumbled into some sort of gang war without even noticing? What kind of “blood” are the Redcoats after?   
He didn’t trust Alexander and Lafayette. That was the reality.

A few hours later, as Lafayette was closing up, they asked suddenly, “Did Burr never arrive?”  
“No,” Alexander said. “That’s odd. He’s always here.”  
“I heard he had a special someone on the side,” Hercules said with a smirk.  
“Is that so?” Alexander questioned with surprise. “I wish I could meet the lucky person.”

While Herc, Laf, Alexander, and John were walking home, John walked slightly slower.  
Alexander noticed how John was practically dragging his feet and hung back with him.  
“You doing okay?” Alexander asked. “This has got to be a tough adjustment.”  
John paused, then nodded. He trudged along even slower. “I’m fine. Just tired.”  
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry! Man, one of us would’ve walked you home! You must be exhausted!”  
“It’s alright,” John mumbled. It really was, but he was so tired that his lips could hardly move.  
“Did we scare you earlier? With all that?”  
John shook his head. They kind of had, but he didn’t really want to talk about it. He wasn’t in much of a mood to talk about anything, really.  
“I know it’s hard,” Alexander said as they reached the entrance to the apartment building. Laf and Herc were waiting at the top of the stairs, but Alexander stopped walking altogether. “The trust thing. It takes a lot of getting used to. I’m not going to push it, darling, but I’ll just remind you that you’re safe. Whatever happened before, you left it in South Carolina.”  
“It’s--”  
“Not that easy, I know. But you’re alive, here, now, okay? The past doesn’t change that at all.”  
John didn’t say anything. All he could think was that Alexander had called him “darling.”  
“Let’s go,” Alexander whispered. “Let’s put our little sleepyhead to bed, now, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ya that's it pretty short.... did you catch the into the woods reference (i'm in into the woods right now so it's like in my head all the time and also no one is alone is so beautiful oops I gave it away oh well)
> 
> also in chapel today I heard this Bible verse and if that stuff annoys you you can just not read it but I thought it was pretty cool because a) it's Hispanic Heritage month so let's celebrate the fact that like 20% of Americans are native Spanish speakers and then b) it's from Leviticus which is that place in the Bible where "Christians" go to take Bible verses out of context and use for their own purposes and this verse is clear as day no matter how you use it
> 
> Leviticus 19:33-34 (NIV) : When a foreigner resides among you, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt.
> 
> I don't think I need to interpret that for you
> 
> good night y'all


	10. "Look at my eyes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attacks and a little bit of a hinted at death of a past character
> 
> "Alexander, qu'est-ce que tu fais?" : Alexander, what are you doing?

Lafayette bolted up in bed.  
Screaming. Someone was screaming.  
They rolled out of bed, eyes bleary from sleep. “ _Alexander, qu'est-ce que tu fais?_ ” they muttered.  
Lafayette figured that Alexander had done something stupid again, as usual. But when they entered the hallway, rubbing at their eyes, Alexander was waiting for them.  
Alexander, quiet for once, beckoned them down the hallway, stopping outside the door to the guest room.  
“You can hear him panting,” Alexander murmured.  
“We can’t ambush him,” Lafayette whispered.  
“You go in,” Alexander said.  
Laf was hesitant. John seemed to respond so well to Alexander in particular. But right now, Alexander looked oddly tense. Nervous, even. Alexander liked John. Laf could tell. They’d known Alexander long enough to recognize that look on his face, yet this one was slightly different. Laf had never seen Alexander this way before.  
Lafayette shook their head slowly. They could hear John gasping behind the door. He was probably panicking. “You,” Laf said.  
“Me?” Alexander said. He shook his head. “Please, Laf.”  
There was no time to argue. Lafayette rolled their eyes and pushed open John’s bedroom door.  
“John? Mon chou? It is me, Lafayette.”  
John was in a ball on the floor, shaking violently. “George,” he whimpered. “No. Please. _Por favor._ ”  
Lafayette slowly approached the lump that was John, crouching down a good distance away. “John, look at me.”  
John’s eyes snapped to Lafayette, and it was as if he had stopped breathing for a second. Then he scrambled to his feet, pushed past Alexander, and ran.  
Lafayette and Alexander followed without a second thought. They found John, hyperventilating, trying to get to the front door, but Herc was in the way, making it impossible.  
“I can’t let you go like this, John,” Herc said softly. “I can’t let you get hurt.”  
John paced in the foyer. He looked so small, so confined in his own body.  
Lafayette took one step closer. “Cher,” they breathed. “John, look at my eyes.”  
John whimpered and suddenly his legs folded beneath him. Hercules instinctively reached and grabbed under his arms to break his fall.  
John screamed, louder than any of them knew that this quiet kid could get.   
Herc cursed. He had all but forgotten John’s injury.  
Alexander had tears pouring down his face. He vaguely remembered that time in his life when he had been like this. He hadn’t realized how much it hurts to watch. As John rocked fervently on the ground, Alexander knelt next to him and said, “John, _querido_. John, shhhh.”  
John’s arm lashed out and Alexander ducked it just in time. Alexander stood, and Lafayette, not knowing how to comfort John, wrapped their arms around Alexander instead. They made eye contact with Hercules. There was nothing any of them could do at this point.

Finally, they got Martha over there and she managed to calm John down enough to breathe. It was very lucky that John could breathe, she said. They’d have to get his inhaler as quickly as possible.  
John was wrapped in about six blankets, his cup of tea shaking in his hands. He still couldn’t really speak.  
Hercules was sitting a cautious distance away, keeping an eye on John, as Martha, Lafayette, and Alexander spoke in hushed voices in the kitchen.  
Hercules felt very uncomfortable. He felt like he was back in Syria, with his buddy, Cato. Cato wasn’t around anymore, but Herc could remember the look in his eyes. It was eerily similar to John’s. Cato wasn’t much like John at all. Cato was harder, darker, meaner. But Cato was the best friend Hercules had ever had, and Herc knew, _knew_ that he had felt the same way John did.  
He had never seen anything like what had just happened to John. Even now,  
over two hours later, John hadn’t even stopped shaking.  
“Hey, John,” Hercules whispered, hoping no one in the kitchen could hear him.  
Slowly, John’s eyes raised to his.  
“We all love you,” Hercules said softly, surprised by how his voice shook. “You have to know that, okay? I know it hurts, buddy, I know.  But we all love you so much.” Tears formed in Herc’s eyes. “Don’t be like Cato.”  
John finally lifted his head. He opened his mouth, and in a gravelly voice, said the first thing he had said all day. “Who’s Cato?”  
Alexander, Martha, and Lafayette returned from the kitchen.  
“Are you feeling better, John?” Alexander said as he came in.  
John nodded weakly. It seemed like a lie.  
A tear spilled down Herc’s cheek. He remembered how Cato had lied. The day before.  
Lafayette didn’t say anything, but they cocked their head and looked at Hercules, as if saying, _“What’s going on?”_  
“I gotta pee,” Herc announced.  
He left the room, locked himself in the bathroom, and slid down the door as tears slid down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Herc is going to get a storyline because he doesn't get enough storylines
> 
> I took the PSAT today and now I feel dead
> 
> hey also if any of y'all like me and have a wattpad account go head on over to my new story... my account is called KatG1781 and the story's called Black Holes & Broken Windows, and it currently has 23 hits because nobody knows who I am and I don't know how to make people read it so I'm turning to y'all... it's good and I have it all written and there's a two gay characters (one is Latino), one bi character (African-American), and a trans boy (undeclared ethnicity) so it's pretty diverse and I think it might be horrible but it took me over a year to write and I want somebody to tell me it doesn't suck so please read it 
> 
> Here's the description y'all:
> 
> James Hanson: Football player (an All-American). High school senior. Set to accept a full-ride scholarship to the school of his choice. Tan skin, blond hair, hazel eyes. Hottie.
> 
> Also James Hanson: ReallyEffingGay (Closeted). Half-orphaned. Depressed and anxious and abused and almost suicidal. Has a really awesome boyfriend with whom he hides in a basement so they can kiss every once in a while.
> 
> James loves Sebastian, he really does. He loves his dad, too. His dad doesn't love gay people. His dad hasn't loved James since his mom died.
> 
> But then Sebastian breaks up with him, his dad finds out, and he's just so tired that he just wants everything to stop.
> 
> But somehow he ends up in Novea, a hidden society of misfits. There's also a boy there, a beautiful boy named Cal who somehow likes James too. But is it real? And can James face his past in order to have a real future?


	11. HIGHLIGHTS (and lowlights)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recap of the hamsquad's past week. It's the definition of a filler, really, but I needed some sort of transition sooooo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicidal thoughts, and a mentioned suicide attempt (this one's... intense at the very end)
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sorry

By the end of the week, John and Martha had left the doctor with John’s arm in a sling and a prescription for an inhaler. Luckily, John’s shoulder probably wouldn’t need any surgery. He had broken his collarbone and sprained his AC joint, but the fracture was simple and the sprain was relatively minor. It hurt a lot, but it would only take some time and a couple of weeks of physical therapy to fix.  
     
By the end of the same week, Theodosia’s husband had returned to New York City. Aaron had _begged_ Theo to just run, go, leave, _anything._ There were a lot of things Aaron had left behind. He rarely fought for anything. But Theo? Aaron loved Theo more than anything. How could he just stand to the side? “Aaron,” Theodosia would murmur in his ear. “We’ll make it. I promise.” Aaron would tremble every time he left her. But still, he waited.

Alexander finished four essays this week. He could’ve finished six, but worrying over John messed with his thought process. Goodness, that wasn’t good. Alexander couldn’t let anything get between him and that law degree. But… John. His face, his hair, his freckles. His eyes. How cute John looked when he took the first sip of his hot chocolate. How John’s nose and cheeks were tinted pink when they went out in the cold. _Stop. John doesn’t need you. He needs… therapy, probably. Real help._ Oh, gosh. At this rate, Alexander would take _three whole days_ to finish his research paper.

John fell asleep on Alexander’s shoulder during _Finding Nemo_. When Alexander noticed, he smiled and tapped Lafayette on the shoulder. Lafayette grinned, rolled their eyes, and gently helped shift John’s head to Alexander’s lap without waking him. John still made a tiny grunt, squirmed, and settled back down. He didn’t have a single nightmare.

Lafayette talked to Adrienne when the stress of holding everybody together got too hard. Hearing her voice worked wonders.

Angelica wrote a flawless essay about feminism for her sociology class. Even her sexist professor couldn’t find a reason to give her less than an A.

Eliza worked at the donut shop and met a cute girl named Maria. She shook her head at herself when she saw that Maria had a boyfriend. _Of course._

Peggy texted Hercules a lot, but he gave one word answers. When she stopped by their place, Herc didn’t even talk to her, instead just fell into her arms and held her like she was the only thing left in his world. He didn’t move for a really long time. She guessed that he was having one of _those_ weeks. It broke her heart. She hadn’t known Hercules before his deployment. She didn’t know much about his deployment itself either. No one did, really. No one except for Lafayette and some of those guys from his platoon that he hangs out with sometimes. All Peggy knew was that he drank a hell of a lot more than usual when he went to those outings.

Hercules had had worse weeks. He’d gotten out of bed every day this time. That was an accomplishment in itself. He hadn’t had one _that_ bad in a long time. This week, exhaustion had simply wrapped itself around Herc’s ribs and squeezed. He didn’t talk much. He felt guilty for being cold with his friends, and especially with Peggy. Peggy was possibly the only place that made him feel normal. Life had improved plenty since he’d returned from Syria, that was for sure. He wasn’t suicidal or anything anymore. Sometimes it was just hard.

Lafayette asked Hercules if he was okay, and he said yes. The response didn’t satisfy them, but they didn’t push. Hercules would come to Lafayette if necessary. Still, they never forgot how red the bathwater had been that day over three years ago. They never forgot how cold Herc’s hand was or the taste in their mouth when the irony smell and the horrible sight made them sick. They especially didn’t forget how his chest rattled with sobs (relieved or heartbroken, Lafayette still didn’t know) when he woke up and realized that he was still alive.

Hercules was fine. Just tired.

John understood the feeling.

Alexander just wanted to give everybody a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated 263rd birthday, John Laurens!
> 
> Thanks for 100 kudos!! Part of me still can't believe people actually like my angst-ridden trash
> 
> I'm going to nag you again to read my wattpad book: Black Holes & Broken Windows by KatG1781
> 
> There's a really cute donut place where I live that I imagine Eliza in
> 
> I'm sorry again :*(
> 
> my school doesn't have a homecoming dance. we have the barn dance. there is square dancing. Kat G. square dances LIKE A BEAST ... it sounds lame but it's better than watching a whole bunch of straight couples grind
> 
> I don't have many friends so this is where I can share my real opinions of people
> 
> I was listening to "popular" from wicked today and then had the horrible realization of how true that song actually is in some ways
> 
> good night y'all, happy Halloween + happy 500th anniversary of the Lutheran reformation + happy for sending all your children outside on the ONE HISTORIC NIGHT WHEN YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO + happy KAT NEEDS TO SHUT UP NOw
> 
> OH YEAH we took one of those A/B personality tests in health class on Thursday and about ten questions in I'm like THIS IS THE HAMILTON OR BURR QUIZ ACTUALLY (turns out I'm a moderate A, which means I lean towards Hamilton... surprised?)


	12. I'm not scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW! for mentions of abuse, rape, and Donald Trump being an idiot
> 
> i'm having issues making chapters long enough possibly
> 
> happy reading, amigos

At the end of the week, John came out of his bedroom in his sling to see Alexander yelling at the TV screen, Lafayette laughing at Alexander.  
He hadn’t known Alexander long, but… he wasn’t surprised.  
“What did Trump do this time?” John asked. He was slowly getting more comfortable talking with the group.  
“He had a very pleasant chat with the president of the Virgin Islands,” Alexander said with a wide grin.  
John furrowed his brow, and then matched Alexander’s smile. “You shouldn’t judge him, Alexander,” John said. “You talk to yourself all the time.”  
Before Alexander could shoot back a response, the news flipped to a new developing story.  
The headline:  
SC SEN. HENRY LAURENS’ SON MISSING  
“Four days ago,” the news woman announced with phony concern, “South Carolina’s Republican Senator Henry Laurens’ son John Laurens was reported missing after not returning home for three days…”  
As the news lady runs through the details of the disappearance, John can feel Laf and Alexander’s eyes on him.  
He doesn’t meet their eyes, just hugs a pillow and plays with its tassel.  
John only looks up when a young girl’s voice fills the room.  
“Wherever you are, Jack, if you’re listening, you gotta come home. I don’t know if you can, or if--,” she stopped, then continued,”--but I really, really miss you and Dad does too. Please come home.”  
John had moved so close to the TV that he was touching her face. John knew Martha's heart wasn't in that speech. She knew too much for that, had bandaged too many injuries. But still, half of his heart wanted to obey her plea.  
When the girl disappeared, Lafayette clicked off the television. “I cannot watch the news anymore,” they whispered.  
“John?” Alexander articulated clearly. “John, was that your sister?”  
John lurched to his feet.  
“Hey, _querido_ ,” Alexander sighed. “Come here.”  
As soon as Alexander opened his arms to him, John stumbled over and fell into him, slightly awkwardly as he tried to avoid his shoulder, looping his one good arm and legs around him like a koala and pressing his nose into Alexander’s neck.  
Lafayette stood and left the room.  
“Your sister looks a lot like you, John,” Alexander said. “She’s got your eyes.”  
John didn’t move. He didn’t even cry. Not a sound.  
Alexander moved for him, rocking back and forth gently.  
“I don’t think you’re like your dad, John. I think your dad could stand to be a little more like you.”  
John shuddered. Softly, ever so softly, he breathed, “He hit me.”  
“Sometimes parents forget who’s supposed to be taking care of whom.”  
John snickered.  
“Don’t mock my proper grammar!”  
“Sorry.”  
“ _Querido_ … There’s nothing you could do or be that would scare me away from you. I’ve been through a lot. I can take it.”  
Alexander remembered when George said that to him. Minus the “ _querido_ ” part.  
“ _Fui violado_ ,” John murmured. “ _Mi novio me violó._ ” John's stomach turned and he thought he was going to throw up, but instead he just felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.  
Alexander rubbed his back and his neck. “I’m not scared.”  
“ _Gracias_.”  
John fell asleep, even though he’d just woken up again.  
Alexander kissed his hair when he realized.  
And when Alexander thought about it…  
_John was cute._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was that happy? i'm trying not to make the angst too thick... but I write angst too easily
> 
> if I were to make an inspirational poster for school, what Hamilton quote would I put on it?
> 
> GUYS ANTHONY RAMOS IS RELEASING TWO SONGS AND I’M SO EXCITED I CAN’T EVEN LIKE FUNCTION AND I LISTENED TO THE PREVIEW CLIP LIKE FIVE HUNDRED TIMES AND IT’S SO GOOD AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE IF I DIDN’T SHIP HIM AND JCJ SO HARD I WOULD WANT TO MARRY HIM EVEN THOUGH HE’S TEN YEARS OLDER THAN ME SHHHHH
> 
> district choir auditions are today y'all and I'm freaking the eff out
> 
> sometimes i think i’m insane


	13. Think.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... sometimes Kat just has stuff to say. I feel like being direct is a lot easier. 
> 
> I was going to wait to put this out there until Thanksgiving, but I wanted this.
> 
> This poem was published in October 2010 by John Scalzi. Dunno if you know it, but it's nice. At the end I give a lecture. Because I like to talk, and sometimes I feel like the internet is the only place people might listen.
> 
> Forgive my Christian influences.
> 
> Warning: All of a sudden, this got tough. Be careful. I... I don't know what to warn you about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finishing up my next real chapter. I promise.
> 
> This Thanksgiving... I want y'all to think.

THINGS I DON'T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT TODAY by John Scalzi

Today I don't have to think about those who hear "terrorist" when I speak my faith.  
Today I don't have to think about men who don't believe no means no.  
Today I don't have to think about how the world is made for people who move differently than I do.  
Today I don't have to think about whether I'm married, depending on what state I'm in.  
Today I don't have to think about how I'm going to hail a cab past midnight.

Today I don't have to think about whether store security is tailing me.  
Today I don't have to think about the look on the face of the person about to sit next to me on a plane.  
Today I don't have to think about eyes going to my chest first.  
Today I don't have to think about what people might think if they knew the medicines I took.  
Today I don't have to think about getting kicked out of a mall when I kiss my beloved hello.

Today I don't have to think about if it's safe to hold my beloved's hand.  
Today I don't have to think about whether I'm being pulled over for anything other than speeding.  
Today I don't have to think about being classified as one of "those people."  
Today I don't have to think about making less than someone else for the same job at the same place.  
Today I don't have to think about the people who stare, or the people who pretend I don't exist.

Today I don't have to think about managing pain that never goes away.  
Today I don't have to think about whether a stranger's opinion of me would change if I showed them a picture of who I love.  
Today I don't have to think about the chance a store salesman will ignore me to help someone else.  
Today I don't have to think about the people who'd consider torching my house of prayer a patriotic act.  
Today I don't have to think about a pharmacist telling me his conscience keeps him from filling my prescription.

Today I don't have to think about being asked if I'm bleeding when I'm just having a bad day.  
Today I don't have to think about whether the one drug that lets me live my life will be taken off the market.  
Today I don't have to think about the odds of getting jumped at the bar I like to go to.  
Today I don't have to think about "vote fraud" theater showing up at my poll station.  
Today I don't have to think about turning on the news to see people planning to burn my holy book.

Today I don't have to think about others demanding I apologize for hateful people who have nothing to do with me.  
Today I don't have to think about my child being seen as a detriment to my career.  
Today I don't have to think about the irony of people thinking I'm lucky because I can park close to the door.  
Today I don't have to think about memories of being bullied in high school.  
Today I don't have to think about being told to relax, it was just a joke.

Today I don't have to think about whether someone thinks I'm in this country illegally.  
Today I don't have to think about those who believe that freedom of religion ends with mine.  
Today I don't have to think about how a half-starved 23-year-old being a cultural ideal affects my life.  
Today I don't have to think about how much my life is circumscribed by my body.  
Today I don't have to think about people wanting me cured of loving who I love.

Today I don't have to think about those who view me an unfit parent because of who I love.  
Today I don't have to think about being told my kind don't assimilate.  
Today I don't have to think about people blind to the intolerance of their belief lecturing me about my own.  
Today I don't have to think about my body as a political football.  
Today I don't have to think about how much my own needs wear on those I love.

Today I don't have to think about explaining to others "what happened to me."  
Today I don't have to think about politicians saying bigoted things about me to win votes.  
Today I don't have to think about those worried that one day people like me will be the majority.  
Today I don't have to think about someone using the name of my religion as a slur.  
Today I don't have to think about so many of the words for me controlling my own life being negatives.

Today I don't have to think about still not being equal.  
Today I don't have to think about what it takes to keep going.  
Today I don't have to think about how much I still have to hide.  
Today I don't have to think about how much prejudice still keeps hold.  
Today I don't have to think about how I'm meant to be grateful that people tolerate my kind.

Today I don't have to think about all the things I don't have to think about.  
But today I will.

****

The thing about Thanksgiving is that the idea (being thankful for all the things you have) is incredible... but the origins are disgusting. The "first Thanksgiving" story, the one where all the pilgrims and the Native Americans learned how to coexist, has been beaten into our brains since we were in kindergarten. But how much does the story leave out? As five-year-olds, do we learn about what followed? The genocides, the wars, the racism that is still ignored in our country?

If you went to a school similar to mine, you didn't. You didn't hear that until much later.

And then, you start to think... I'm a Christian. I know who I'm thanking for all the things that I'm so lucky to have. But who does everybody else thank? Each other? Their parents? Fate? It told me how ignorant I truly was. 

And that's the fact. I'm pretty lucky. I'm a white kid. I'm cis. Yeah, I'm some sort of bisexual something (but I don't understand my own sexuality, if I'm honest. I don't understand sex. I think it's an overemphasized thing in our society.), but I'm closeted, and I'm okay with that. My sexuality, whatever it is, isn't all that important to me. I'm female too, so I guess I experience some sort of de facto sexism, but I'm not old enough to know what that truly is. I'm a practicing Christian (which technically means I'm part of a majority, but only about a quarter of people who call themselves Christians attend church on a regular basis). Fact is, I'm lucky. Very lucky. God gave me a lot. It is not wrong nor shameful to admit it.

The guy who wrote this poem is as advantaged as they come. Agnostic/non-practicing Christian, straight white male. He doesn't have to think about most, if not all, of those things he listed. And he knows it. He understands that he was blessed with being in every possible majority there is.

And when I read over that poem, I begin to realize all of those things that I don't have to think about. They seem like such simple things to me, but they aren't to many. And I realize how much I have to be thankful for.

There are three times of year where the foster care system sees an influx in children needing families. The first is Christmas, the second is the beginning of summer vacation, and the third is, you guessed it, Thanksgiving. So all these times of year that lots of us associate with happiness are destructive, chaotic, and painful to plenty of families.

When asked what we are thankful for around Thanksgiving, there are five main things nearly all of us will say: family, friends, food, home, and education. How many of us say one of these? I know I do. 

So this year, I challenge y'all who are as lucky as I am, or more, or maybe even less, to think about all of those things you don't have to think about. Be grateful that you don't have to think about them. Thank whoever you thank. Simply think about how lucky you are. Be grateful.

***

(You can now leave. I have said my necessary piece.)

***

Sex.

Am I ace? Maybe. Do I need to title it? Maybe not.

So, yeah. I don't understand my own sexuality. Am I alone? I don't know. Being the Jesus-Freak-Mennonite-School girl that I am, sex is... uncomfortable. I'm never going to write smut. I talk about sexual assault and harassment because I know I have to, but... is it weird that I find consensual sex more awkward? Yes. That sounds horrible, now that I think about it... don't interpret that wrong. I know about assault (from facts) and harassment (from experience). I just... don't know about consensual sex. I know that I don't believe in pre-marital sex (I don't judge anyone, I promise. I just don't believe it's right for me. I'll argue that it's not right for you, either, but at the end of the day, it's your body and your choice, and I love you anyway). Studies (secular ones) have shown that post-marital sex is much more emotionally and physically satisfying that pre-marital sex... aaaaaand that's about it for what I know. So... maybe I'm unqualified to speak on the topic.

I don't know what the future will bring (as far as I'm concerned, it's in God's hands, not mine.), but my plan, God-willing, is to wait until I'm married. Sex is God's, and he reserved it for marriage.

I.... am wondering how I sound saying this. Offense is the last thing I mean. Sex... is what it is in the eyes of the beholder. So... my regulations on myself don't really have anything to do with you.

God, I'm scared. 

Is sharing Christian ideologies rude? (I want you to answer this question. Leave a comment. I love you. Promise.)

I feel sorta terrible. A huge part of me wants to go back and delete like, all of this. Just... I'm afraid. I don't want to cause harm. I wish you could see my face. This is as sincere as I've ever been. 

Like... my faith was always the one thing that made me feel... good. Loved. Wanted. Worthy. I... I'm grateful for all my advantages, but it's not like this whole thing was a picnic. Life, I mean. I struggle with self-harm. A lot. Like... the idea is always lurking. I think of... I can't say it. I've never said that anywhere before. I don't believe I'd ever try anything like that. I don't think I'm done with my worldly mission yet. God put me here for a reason, and I want to find it. And my fear of failure is too strong. 

Because my parents, flawed as they are, love me. I know they do. They don't understand, but they love. That's... that's so important. I can't stress that enough. If I admit to them how I feel sometimes... (often? constantly?) I can't disappoint them. They'd blame themselves, I know it. They are the embodiment of beauty in my life. I shouldn't let them down. I shouldn't. I won't. I should be more grateful. I should understand that my parents could be abusive like John's or absent like Alexander's and they're not. Why do they feel so far away?

Anyway, the truth. The one truth. It is all because of this. Because He knows me. Because He hears me when I don't want Him to and He stays with me when I'm scared and alone and there's nothing left that matters but Him. Because He loves me. When I know there's no way anyone else can. Because when my flaws and my fears and my failures are too much, He loves me. He'd give his life for me, even me. Because He promises that He loves me, and He doesn't break promises. Because when everything hurts more than seems bearable, three comforting verses can soothe that. Because I cried when I read Psalm 30. Because when I'm awake in the silent hours of the night, when everything is empty, that's when I feel Him closest. Because even though I am nothing, even though my existence is unreliable and even though I try to control my own life when my life is God's, He still wants me and weeps for me and loves me. Because I have no one else but Him.

God. Sorry. Was that meaningless to you? Was that rude? If it was, then I don't know what I'm going to do. Because all I want to do is to make the world see what I see, to feel what I feel, to cry when they read Psalm 30. And I understand that it's not going to happen. This doesn't apply to all of you, and that's okay. I know that, I appreciate that, I love that. It's hard to grasp a faith in a benevolent God when life hurts so bad. I know, I know, I know. 

I'm so sorry. 

please don't hate me

Love, Kat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I'm okay. I promise.
> 
> P.P.S. But am I? I'm way too lucky to feel like this, aren't I? How does... God... is enough to keep me going.
> 
> MY POINT: Be thankful. More than I am.


	14. Better Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: lil bit of vomiting, panic attacks, vague mentions of rape, abuse, & henry laurens being a total douchebag
> 
> tough chapter y’all
> 
> sorry this took so long i had to figure out wtf is going on

“How are you, honey?” Peggy asked Herc lovingly as they waited in the small diner for their breakfast. Reaching across the table, she grabbed onto both of Herc’s big hands and squeezed.

“I’m doing just fine, Pegs,” Herc promised. He smiled wanly and sighed. “I’ve had better weeks,” he amended. “But I’ve also had worse. I’m dealing.”

Peggy’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. “Oh, honey,” she murmured, her lip quivering. “We’ve been together for over a year. When are you ever going to let me deal _with_ you?”

Herc looked at his lap, his large stature shrinking in shame. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He opened his mouth, then shook his head. “I never stop missing him,” he finally choked. “It’s been, what, four years? And still, my stomach clenches every time I--”

Peggy removed one hand from Herc’s firm grasp. She brought it up, catching it under his chin and tilting his head to face her. With her thumb, she grazed away the tears pooling beneath his eyes.

“You,” she breathed, “are a hero. That’s something no one can ever take away from you. Now… you can let me be your hero.”

Herc laughed softly. “I have no doubt,” he said. “You were always braver than me.”

“You flatter me.”  
“Only with the truth.”

“I know it’s going to hurt, baby, but were you honest with me? When you said you were fine?”

Herc nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Well, mostly. As honest as I can be.”

Peggy smiled. 

Their waiter came with their food.

“Let’s eat,” Peggy said.

***  
Herc and Peggy, full of eggs and overly sweet coffee, strolled to Schuyler sisters’ apartment.  
Once they arrived, Herc walked her up to the door, and they said wistful, reluctant goodbyes. Herc whispered “I love you” into Peggy’s ear and she squealed as always before saying it back and giving him a long, close-lipped kiss.

As Herc was leaving the apartment building’s doorstep, vaguely wondering if he should be walking home alone, what with the dangerous climate of late. He’d be fine, he decided. It was early. The sun was shining. And he was a Marine, albeit a broken one. He could handle whatever would come. 

***  
Hercules was late. It was past noon, and he wasn’t home yet.

Lafayette didn’t want to voice it, but they were worried.

They worried about Hercules more than was likely necessary, but how could they not? That poor boy had lived through way too much. First, it was the warzone in his neighborhood. Second, it was the real warzone, in Syria. And then, it was the warzone in his head.

Alexander and John entered the living room from the kitchen. Together.

Lafayette chuckled to themself. They wondered how long it would take those two to notice how they look at each other. 

If they knew either of them at all, probably months.

“Hey, is Herc back yet?” Alexander asked.

No sooner did Alexander mention it than the front door bursted open.

The first thing Lafayette noticed was the blood.

“ _Ami!_ ” they exclaimed, leaping to their feet.

“What the hell is going on?” Alexander yelled.

Herc was shaking like a leaf. Tracking blood in footprints across the carpet, he limped across the room and flopped on the couch, seemingly unaware that he was getting blood from the wound in his left thigh on the upholstery.

“Herc?” Laf whispered, as if confronting a wounded animal. “Herc, _mon cher,_ what happened?”

Hercules started sobbing, clipped, out-of-breath gasps. He buried his face in his hands.

John had backed into the corner.

“John, _querido_ ,” Alexander said softly, “can you go call Martha? And Peggy?”

John nodded mutely and walked into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Herc was crying and Lafayette wasn’t sure if he was having a panic attack or if he was just flat out terrified. Or in pain from the long cut bleeding on his thigh.

“Hercules, you must tell me what’s going on. Oh, _cher,_ shhh. Can I touch you?”

Herc nodded, but lifted his head and croaked, “The king’s back.”

Another sob slipped through his lips. His face flushed, and he threw up on the floor.

Lafayette leapt out of the way, then approached Hercules and crouched next to him, running their hand over his cropped hair. “That’s alright,” they murmured. “This carpet was needing replacing anyway.”

Herc wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, panting until he took a deep, steadying breath.

Lafayette kept mussing his hair and asked, “Feeling better now?”

Hercules nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Enough to explain?”

Hercules paused, seemed to think about it, and started to cry again.

“Oh, no, no, you don’t have to, shhh, it’s alright, you’re safe now…” Lafayette consoled, affectionately but urgently. “Breathe, _mon cher,_ you must… you’ll make yourself sick again.”

He was sobbing, “I, I-- they w-were-- th-they ha-had--”

“You don’t need to tell me.”

“So m-m-many--too many--I, I c--I f-feel--they h-h-had--a-and I--all m-my f-f-f--Ca-Ca-t-to--Cato--I, I--and I--I d-didn’t--I k-k-ki--”

He disintegrated into sobs. He rolled onto his side on the couch and curled into a ball.

Lafayette whispered soft nothings to Hercules until he either fell asleep or fainted.

***  
John didn’t like yelling. He preferred “inside voices” because people usually talked more calmly when they weren’t angry. He had liked Alexander because even though Alexander could be loud and obnoxious, he never yelled. He got indignant to the point where you thought it would soon escalate into yelling, but he never quite got there.

Until Hercules limped through the front door. Then Alexander yelled. He elbowed John’s injured shoulder. John knew it was probably an accident, rationally, but the pain was real, and in John’s life, pain was rarely an accident.

_“I’m sorry. I’M SORRY? I find you, in my house, on my couch, fucking with a BOY, and all you have to say is I’m sorry? Tell that to God. Won’t stop him from turning you away from heaven’s gates.”_

_John sat in silence. He didn’t know what else to do._

_Pain flared up in John’s ribs, and his teeth knocked together when he was shoved onto the ground._

_When it was over, he trudged up to his bedroom, his whole body aching, and collapsed onto his bed. When he mustered the energy, he grabbed his cell phone and called Francis._

_He didn’t answer._

_The next day, after John had shuffled into school with his head down, he looked everywhere for Francis. When he finally found him, he was kissing a girl._

“John?”

Alexander’s voice snapped him out of the not-quite-flashback.

“John, _querido,_ can you go call Martha? And Peggy?”

His legs shaking, John went into the kitchen and found the phone. He dialed in Martha’s number and hit call.

“Hello,” Martha’s voice said. “How are my lovely boys and Lafayette?”

“M-Martha,” John stammered, “you gotta come over. Something’s wrong with Herc. He’s bleeding everywhere—and he’s crying real bad—and we ain’t sure what the heck we’re supposed to do.” His voice quavered on the last word. All he could think about was how Herc had seemed so calm and collected when he cut John’s shirt off of him. Where had that guy gone? The guy in the living room, who John could hear sobbing from all the way in the kitchen, was not the same person.  
Nothing in John’s life was ever reliable. 

He held his breath to keep from hyperventilating into the phone.

“Okay, John,” Martha said. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

John found himself dragging his feet to his borrowed room, selectively ignoring everything from the scene in the living room. Still holding the phone to his ear, he sat down on the bed.

“Do you want to explain what’s going on?”

“We dunno. We were just thinking that he was late gettin’ home when he showed up.” He opened his mouth to continue, but his ragged breathing was getting the better of him. All he could think about was the power and urgency in Alexander’s voice.

“ _Respira,_ John.”

John dragged in a harsh breath. “I don’t like yelling,” John said.

“Have you let the others know this?” Martha asked. 

He shook his head, then realized Martha couldn’t see that. 

The sobbing from out in the living room escalated again and it only made John feel worse. He knew Martha was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear her and he couldn’t breathe either and it was really hard to tell if he was having an asthma attack or a panic attack. It was probably the latter but his chest hurt and he felt kinda lightheaded and he was coughing as he breathed.

“John? You okay?” That wasn’t Martha. John looked up and saw Alexander and coughed and dropped the phone on the floor, where the phone practically shattered.

John groaned. Coughed.

Alexander cursed and John held back a sob. He was such an idiot. All he did was break stuff. No one would ever want him. Why would they? He was useless.

Alexander walked over to John, but when John startled and scrambled backward across the bed to avoid him, he started picking plastic up off the ground. But when John coughed particularly hard, Alexander couldn’t ignore him anymore.

“Alright, _querido,_ ” he said, as softly as he could muster. “You gotta breathe now. Sit up straight. Yep, that’s it.”

Lafayette trudged into the room. They saw the scene before them and simply slid down the wall, sitting on the floor.

“Do you have your inhaler?” Alexander asked John.

John wouldn’t respond.

“ _¿Tienes tu inhalador?”_

John looked up, his chest heaving, and nodded. His hands shaking, he pulled it from his pocket and handed it to Alexander, who quickly scanned the label. 

Alexander removed the cap and shook the inhaler. He gently tilted John’s head back and administered the medicine. John instinctively took a slow breath, as slow as he could manage in his state, and held his breath. It was a hell of a lot harder than usual, but forcing himself to slow down actually made him feel better.

Granted, it was still bad. After deciding he didn’t need another hit, he took another couple of minutes to pull himself together. Then he saw Alexander, and guilt washed over him, so strong that it almost knocked his breath away again.

There was a soft sob.

John snapped his head up. 

Lafayette.

Lafayette had their head buried into their hands, their knees drawn up to their chest.

John felt Alexander’s eyes flicker to him, then back to Lafayette.

John turned his shoulder away.

Alexander got the message and stood up to go over to Laf. He rested a hand on their shoulder and rubbed for half a second. But then a shout rang out from the living room and the doorbell rang all at once, and Lafayette’s head snapped up. They choked back the tears, then used the wall to stumble to their feet, and went into the hallway.

Alexander looked at John and said, slightly frantically, “You’ll be alright for a second, right?” then ran into the hallway without an answer.

John sighed, then moved to the floor and started sweeping plastic and glass into his hands. Luckily, the living room was pretty quiet. All he could hear was Martha’s sweet, motherly voice.

Jealousy flashed through John. It left as quickly as it came, and guilt replaced it. Who was he to wish she was with him? Who was he to wish for a mother, for comfort, when Herc has obviously just gone through hell and back? Who was he to steal Alexander’s comforts, to like him, to live in their house? All he did was break things, and he wanted attention?

Maybe he was being punished. Maybe he deserved the way George had touched him. Maybe he deserved the shit his father had put him through. Maybe he deserved to lose his little sister.

Everybody would just be better off without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to all y’all who read my little ramblings from tuesday it means a lot
> 
> just so you know, not all Christians think like Henry Laurens; Henry drags the name of Christ through the effing mud when he says crap like that
> 
> did i mention that anthony’s new songs give me LIFE
> 
> also LMM LIKED MY REPLY ON HIS TWITTER POST
> 
> i was at musical rehearsal like nah i’m not crying what are you talking about
> 
> comments? kudos? please... they make my day <3


	15. Relatively Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: everything I have ever previously listed, + abortion related stuff

It was relatively easy to sneak out, John had discovered.

With Hercules down for the count and everybody focused on simply trying to get him to speak, all John had to do was quietly walk down the stairs and out the door.

It was relatively easy to be quiet, too. John didn’t really feel like speaking. He didn’t feel much like thinking either. His throat ached. It seemed like, lately, something always hurt.

Numbly, John walked down the stairs. He was about to take the elevator, but when the doors slid open, he saw the box-like atmosphere and just couldn’t. There were many things John couldn’t do. Obviously something was messed up inside him.

But then he stepped out into the cold, and it was like he was free again. He could breathe, he didn’t have to think, he didn’t have to remember. He wanted more. More cold. John needed to be submerged. He could forget.

He could forget his dad who still managed to scream in his ears after all this time. He could forget how Francis ripped his heart out before John could truly give it to him. He could forget the way George had played with him as if he were some sort of cheap, ratty toy. How he’d slipped in through some hole in John’s foundation and had just destroyed him from the inside out. Relatively easily.

John picked up his pace. He didn’t know where he was walking. He was just chasing the cold, he guessed. 

And then all of a sudden he was on his butt on the sidewalk.

“Damn! I’m sorry! Are you alright? Wait. John? John, are you okay?”

John groaned.

The voice got closer. “Hello? John, it’s me, Aaron Burr. We met at To Freedom the other night? You’re here, at the corner of 89th and Washington Street. You’re okay. You’re safe. We’re pretty far from my place, but I can hail a cab. Can I touch you?”

Somehow, John found it within himself to nod.

“Okay, I’m gonna grab your arm. Can you stand?”

John didn’t answer, just used Burr’s arm as support and forced his shivering legs to get the hell up. His eyes were blurry, but he saw the yellow taxi door opening. He felt himself being sat down on the leather seat. It smelled weird in the taxi. Burr was sitting next to him. Talking to someone on the phone.

“What wrong wit’ him?” a new voice said after a few minutes.

“Just had a bit too much to drink,” Burr’s smooth voice replied.

“You sure? He seems more sick than drunk. Well, I guess it’s fine as long as he ain’t gonna puke in my cab. Too damn hard to get a job ‘round ‘ere. I ain’t willin’ to get canned.”

“I doubt he’s that bad off. Besides, that’s my place right there. Thanks for the ride, sir.”

Burr half-carried a limp, raggedy John into his apartment. “Have a seat, John. I called Alexander and told him you were okay. He seemed spooked. Something’s up with Hercules, huh?”

John, now seated on an overstuffed sofa, simply rolled over and fell asleep.

Burr covered John with a blanket, texted Alexander, and went to his bedroom.

It was only after Burr was already in bed (uncomfortably alone) that finally had the chance to really let the reality of the situation sink in.

 

_an hour earlier_

 

“I’m pregnant.”

The world tilted suddenly beneath Burr’s feet. He thought he might faint, but instead he calmly asked, “Is it his or mine?” Burr asked. It felt weird calling a baby an “it.”

Theodosia said, “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m not keeping it.”

Burr felt a sudden wave of nausea nearly knock him off his feet. _I shouldn’t be standing for this,_ he thought. There were no chairs nearby, so he slid down the wall to the floor.

“Do you mean adoption, or…?”

“You know what I mean, Aaron.”

_He was 14 years old. His face was pressed up against the glass._

_“Hey, Sally,” he said softly. She was so small. “Hi, baby. I know you’re hurting, sweetheart. But I love you.” A sob slipped from his lips._

_He could hear Sally’s pained whimpers through the glass._

_“Please forgive Mama,” he whispered, his voice quivering. “She’s just scared. He really hurt her. It’s not your fault or hers.” Aaron tried to swallow the sobbing. “I know she didn’t want to name you. It would be too hard.” A tear slipped down his cheek and he felt so damn helpless. “But between you and me, you’re Sally, okay?”_

_All Aaron wanted to do was touch her, but she was so far away, behind that glass. It was probably for the best. If he could touch her, he’d never be able to let her go._

_“I love you, Sally,” Aaron murmured. The tears got the better of him. He was leaning over his tiny little half-sister, sobbing._

_Sally died at 3:30 AM. Aaron’s mother died an hour later from complications. Aaron was alone._

“Aaron? Are you okay?”

_It’s her choice. It’s her body._

But she could die. She could leave, like Mama did.

_It’s her baby._

But it’s mine too. Maybe.

_Her reproductive system. Her choice. Butt out._

“Aaron, please just say something.”

 _I’m going to be sick._ “Okay,” Burr said. “Okay.” He took a shuddering breath and swallowed against the nausea. “I… I guess it’s your choice, honey. I can’t make it for you.” He had wanted it to sound comforting, but he just sounded cold.

“Aaron, please don’t be mad. It’s my only option.” 

Burr could hear the tears thickening her voice, but he just said, “No, it’s not your only option.”

“Aaron, if I keep it, he’ll kill me.”

“THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL WITH HIM?” Burr exploded. He was on his feet. He was shaking from head to toe. His emotions were out of control. _Talk less. Smile more._ Burr took a deep breath and plastered a fake, wan smile on his face. “I’m sorry, Theo,” he apologized, his voice barely a whisper. “But you don’t have to do this.”

“Well, what the _fuck_ do you know, Aaron? Standing there, all _fucking_ calm and _fucking_ cold all the DAMN TIME. What do you know? You’ve never felt empathy a day in your life, have you? You can’t even try to imagine what I’m going through. You just have to be in control all the time, don’t you? Well, guess what! This is my decision! Mine! And I’m doing what I have to to keep myself safe. If you really loved me, like you claim to, then you’ll support my decision!” Theodosia was shaking. Her breath was coming in deep, sobbing, terrified gasps.

But Burr could barely see through his anger. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t look at her. His stomach was roiling with rage. “How _dare_ you,” he articulated, his head throbbing. His ears were ringing and he was shaking all over. Theo was talking to him again, but he was going to be sick. He was sure of it.

Theo _knew_. She _knew_ why he was like this. She knew how hard it was for him to open up, and now she’d just tossed it in his face.

Aaron turned on his heel and walked out of the apartment. He was out of the building and two blocks away before he got himself under control again. It was another block later until white people didn’t cross the street at the sight of him. _Damn racists,_ he thought. 

He slipped that blank mask back on his face, but all he could think was

God. Oh, God.

And then he ran into John Laurens.

 

_present_

 

And reality sank in, alright. It sank right down into his stomach, where it exploded like a hand grenade.

And yet, Burr was still the epitome of outward calm. He rolled out of bed and stepped into his bathroom. He shut the door and locked it tight. With two soundproof doors in between him and the closest human, he flipped the switch for the dimmest light setting and closed the blinds of his bathroom window.

He was alone.

Burr’s stomach churned immediately, then wrenched. He fell to his knees and was loudly, violently sick. 

Soon the retching turned to sobs. He stood on shaking knees, flushed, and left the sanctuary of his bathroom. He took the steps and collapsed into his bed.

Burr wrapped himself in his blankets and buried his face into his pillow.

And for the first time since he was 14 years old, Burr started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thus begins my three main storylines: John's recovery, Herc's situation, and Theodosia's kid
> 
> note a) the thing about Burr and Theodosia's situation is that both sides are understandable and viable places to be in. however, Theodosia, by law, does get the final say in the situation. i'm not going to tell y'all explicitly how I feel about abortion, but I think people do need to be careful on how they approach abortion in general. both sides of the debate are understandable and viable. it's pretty offensive for old men to make decisions on women's bodies. it's also offensive to kill an unborn child that can't make its own decisions. either way you choose, somebody is offended
> 
> note b) I know I completely destroyed historical accuracy here. Burr did have a sister, but she was two years older. Burr's parents were dead by the time he was two. i'm writing a story, not a genealogy.
> 
> I'm sorry about the very long wait. School has been absolute hell for the past week.
> 
> But I did well on my PSAT, and my English teacher liked my short story! Hahaha. I'm gonna cry.
> 
> Oh yeah, I finally decided I should use my tumblr more, so you should find me @skylarjames17 ... also how do you work that thing where you connect your ao3 to your tumblr? I'm technologically inept.
> 
> Is there anybody out there I can pray for? Just leave a comment, and I’ll be happy to put in a word ;-) idk about you, but I always feel better about stuff when I know someone’s praying for me :-)


	16. There are some burdens worth bearing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! Update schedules? pfffft
> 
> Three things! One: I'm in the musical at my high school, and we open in less than two weeks. That is my current excuse for being AWOL for the past month. My fellow thespians can understand. When you're at school for seven hours, and then at school for another 6 for rehearsal, and when you have so much Into the Woods in your head all the time that you can't stop singing "Last Midnight" long enough to think about Hamilton... yeah. Two: Because I'm in Into the Woods right now and it's in my head all the time, there are 6 Into the Woods references in this chapter! Whoever finds them all first wins... something, somehow. Just not my personal information or money. Three: Irrelevant, but I just took the Myers-Briggs test. Have any of you taken it? I'm usually not one to take stock in personality tests, but this one was so creepily accurate that I feel personally psychoanalyzed. If you've taken it, you should comment your results, and if not, take it because it's free. I'm an INFP-T.
> 
> Happy reading! This chapter is completely safe, I believe! Pleas leave kudos or comments!

The following morning, John was still asleep when Alexander showed up at Burr’s apartment to pick up his friend. Burr, however, was awake. It wasn’t unusual for him to be awake this early. He was up at 7 sharp every morning, even on the weekends. 

Alexander, though, slept sporadically and unpredictably and was usually in some disheveled state because of it. Today was no different.

Burr, upon opening the door, immediately offered Alexander a strong cup of black coffee, which Alexander accepted without even saying hello.

“John’s still asleep,” Burr said. “You can come sit down, if you’d like. I don’t know about such things, but it might be best to let him sleep… I think?”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Burr. If you have an opinion, state it for once instead of this wishy-washy bullshit. It’s horrifically irritating of you.”

“Sorry to have bothered you. Have a seat.”

Alexander groaned dramatically, but he sat down, taking a huge gulp of his coffee.

“How’s Hercules?” Burr asked.

“How do you fucking think? All we could get out of him is that the king’s back. And who fucking knows how he found that out. And didn’t the king rape a bunch of people? I mean, I can’t help wondering if the king raped him too. I mean, it’s not a stretch. That would be so fucking bad. Rape is so fucking gross. My fucking god, I don’t know what we’re going to do. And Laf’s cracking up. They were crying all night long. Who knew Laf had a breaking point?”

“We all have them, Alexander.”

“Except for you,” Alexander replied jokingly.

Burr chuckled. Hell, Alexander was so intelligent, but he knew nothing. Alexander never learned. The best way to get rid of your own breaking point was to pretend you didn’t have one. “Even me.”

“Riiiiight,” Alexander said. Then he leaned forward and squinted. “Hold up. Have you been… _crying?_ ” He sat up, wide-eyed.

Burr laughed. “Me? What would I have to cry over?” He rolled his eyes. “You need more coffee.” Burr stood up and walked into his kitchen.

Alexander was so confused. Burr was so confusing. Alexander decided he needed more coffee. Plus, John was stirring.

Alexander quickly set his coffee down on the table.

“What were you thinking?” Alexander asked angrily when John’s eyes fluttered open to meet his.

John gripped his blanket, his face starting to crumple. “I--”

“Nope. No crying. Did you think of us for a moment? Did you think of Herc? He needed us. He needed our focus on _him._ Not on your whereabouts.”

“I thought--”

“That we’d be better off without you? That you were a burden? That you didn’t deserve to live with people who care about you? Yeah, I get it. Yeah, I’ve been there. But you can’t run away. Yeah, you’re a burden. But so am I. So is Lafayette. So is Burr and Eliza and Angelica and Peggy. So is Herc. But do you think we’re all just going to turn our backs on Hercules when things get tough? No more despair, or burdens to bear! No. There are some burdens worth bearing. The fewer of those burdens worth bearing… the more you feel undefined.”

“I wish...”

Alexander softened. “I know. We forgive you.”

Burr reentered then, with a pot of coffee and a plate of bagels. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” John said, sitting up and combing his fingers through his rumpled curls. “Alexander? How’s Herc?”

“I’ll tell you on the way home. It’s a long and ugly story, though.”

“Oh.” John frowned.

“Do you want to take a shower or anything, John?” Burr asked, ever the gracious host despite his introverted tendencies.

“Actually, yeah,” John said. He’s one to favor cleanliness. Plus, his hair gets oily and gross if he doesn’t wash it.

“Cool. The bathroom’s down that hallway, to your right. There’s a towel in the closet.”

“Thanks,” John said, getting to his feet and walking to the bathroom.

“Now, in the meantime, Burr!” Alexander exclaimed. “Are you going to tell me what’s up with you?”

Burr froze for a split second. He sat down in a plush chair in the corner. He was definitely not ready to talk about it. Plus, he wasn’t sure if it was even his business. Plus, he’d pulled himself together. It’s not his decision to make, so why should he worry about it? Worrying will do you no good. If she decides not to keep it, then she doesn’t keep it. Plus, it could be her crappy husband’s child. Even if it’s Burr’s, it’s really Theo’s. And--

“College is kicking my ass. I stayed up really late finishing an essay. I’m not like you; I can’t function on an hour of sleep a night.”

Alexander narrowed his eyes. “You seem to be functioning just fine; your eyes are just bright red, which leads me to believe you either are stoned, or have been crying, and neither of those are very much like you.”

“Leave it alone, Alexander. Stop meddling in my business.”

“I just don’t want you thinking you’re alone, Burr. That’s when people fuck up stuff. Didn’t you learn anything from _Into the Woods_?”

“Alexander.”

“Burr. Sir.”

Burr groaned.

“Come on, Burr. I thought we were friends.”

“Eh,” Burr replied. “Sometimes.”

“Please tell me?” Alexander looked at Burr with a pouty, puppy-eyed expression.

“No,” Burr replied icily. “No way.”

The shower water could be heard in the silence.

“So I was right. There is something going on with you!”

“Alexander, please.” Burr’s eyes darted to the window. To the empty white walls. Burr loathed those walls, but what would he hide them with? Sentimental family photos? As if he had a family to photograph. 

“Aaron.”

That got Burr’s attention. Alexander rarely used his first name.

“Aaron, I’m just worried. We all have our breaking points, right? I know what’s out there in the world. All the witches? All the curses? All the wolves, all the lies, the false hopes, the goodbyes, the reverses? All the wondering what even worse is still in store? Yeah, we can’t ignore that. _You_ can’t ignore that.”

Burr folded his fingers together and looked at the floor. “There’s this girl.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, but… she’s married. And she says she loves me and all, but she won’t leave him.”

“That’s a scary thing to do. But you gotta support her, whatever she does. She needs your support.”

“But what about me?” Burr asked. “How can I… I don’t know. It just feels so hopeless. And at first it was so blissfully unaware, you know? But then he comes back from his business in Georgia and I’m like, _back to life, Burr. Back to sense._ But…”

Alexander almost wanted to laugh. “But what? And you refer to yourself as Burr in your internal dialogue?”

“Everybody calls me Burr.”

“But what?”

“She’s pregnant.”

The shower water shut off.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it yours, or…”

Burr shrugged.

“What’s she thinking?”

Burr shrugged again, but his eyes didn’t convey the same indifference.

“Thanks for letting me know, Aaron.”

“Don’t call me Aaron,” Burr said. “It’s disturbing.”

“Okay.”

John came out of the bathroom then, wearing the same clothes. Alexander smiled, seeing the wet spots on John’s shirt from his wet curls.

Burr rolled his eyes. Those two were so perfect for each other. If only they’d pull their heads out of their asses and notice it already.


	17. The Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so I'm alive and thoroughly finished with musicals for the next six months (though, apparently, we're doing The King and I next year, which is exciting because I love that musical but also terrifying because there are very few parts for girls and most parts go to seniors and I'll be a junior next year and plus I am SO NOT A SOPRANO [I can sing those notes, yeah, but they are NOT FUN]). ANYWAY, I'm not dead but I feel dead because the musical closed and then I woke up the next morning and I was sick but I still dunno what's effing wrong with me because my throat is burning like hell and I can barely lift my arms but nothing else is wrong and I went to the doctor and they're like, "welp, you don't have strep, so go home and rest" and I'm like WHAT THE ACTUAL EFF THAT WAS SUCH AN UNHELPFUL WASTE OF MONEY
> 
> ANYWAY I am alive and well and I wrote a long chapter for y'all, have fun

At some point last night, Lafayette grabbed their blanket and their tear-soaked pillow and dragged it into Hercules’s bedroom. In the hall, they could hear the machine that made Alexander stop snoring like a zombified wild boar. When they got to Herc’s bedroom, they were met with a sight somewhere in between relaxing and terrifying.

On the wall was a nightlight that Lafayette remembered being in their bedroom back when they had been little and scared of the dark. Lafayette was still scared of the dark, like everybody is, but they didn’t sleep with that nightlight anymore.

On the floor in the corner was a George, asleep in a ball that could not have been comfortable for a person his age. 

On the bed was Hercules, asleep too. Oddly, if you looked at Herc now, you could almost think nothing was wrong. 

And there was Martha. Awake. Sitting in a rocking chair she dragged in.

She took one look at Lafayette and gave a calm smile.

God, she was such a mom.

“You can stay,” Martha whispered. “We can have a slumber party.”

“Not Alexander,” Lafayette said with a watery smile. “His machine is too loud.”

“Yeah, it does create quite a racket.” There was a silence. “You okay, sweetie?”

Lafayette shook their head. They dragged their bedding across the room and dropped it on the floor. They curled up at Martha’s feet and finally went to sleep.

 

Hercules’ world had been altered. Again.

It was like when you’re driving, and the light drizzle turns into a heavy rain. Heavy enough that you can’t see, even with your wipers going full speed. Heavy enough that slowing down isn’t enough, so you pull into a gas station parking lot and turn off the car because there’s no point in continuing for the moment.

Hercules’ mind had pulled over and turned off its engine.

One minute, all he was thinking about was how beautiful Peggy was. But then there were hands. Hands and knives. And pain in his leg. And so many people with words and revelations and Hercules wondered if it was the end of the world. If it was Judgment Day and he was finally going to hell for all the bad things he knows he’s done, but then he was thinking, Nope, not allowed to think that way anymore, because it’s not true. You did what you had to do. And he thought more about Peggy and the pain dulled until he got back home and everything stopped.

 

Alexander called Peggy in the morning because obviously John did not do that the night before. She screeched into the phone (because Peggy screeches no matter the emotion) and then was over at the apartment faster than what seemed possible.

“WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS MY LIL ONE?”

Alexander sighed. “Upstairs, in his room.”

Peggy didn’t say another word before making for the stairs. “I’m coming,” she was muttering on loop. “Peggy’s coming.”

“Hey, Pegs, wait,” Alexander said quickly, interrupting her mantra. “He’s been pretty bad.”

“So?” Peggy bounced, already halfway up the steps.

“So…” Alexander trailed off. “Never mind.”

“Don’t worry, Al. He’ll pull through.”

“I… I gotta go pick up John,” Alexander said in a warbled voice. He left through the door without even grabbing a coat.

 

Alexander wasn’t lying when he said Herc was bad off. When Peggy entered Herc’s bedroom, she did not see Lafayette asleep like a rock on the floor, nor George drooling in the rocking chair with Martha curled up in his lap.

Instead, she saw Hercules on his side in bed, his eyes opened just a crack.

Awake.

As quickly as she could move while still being subtle, Peggy crossed the room and sat down on the floor where she could be in Herc’s sight line.

Gently, her hand caressed his buzzed hair. “Hi, baby,” she whispered.

Hercules’ lips moved but didn’t make a sound.

“What was that?” Peggy murmured.

Herc’s wrecked voice came out in a soft undertone. “Am I dead?”

Her heart stuttered. “No, baby, just a little hurt.” She wanted nothing more than to kiss his pain away.

“Hurt,” Hercules parroted. “Ouch?”

“Yeah, baby, ouch. You know where you are?”

“Laf?”

“They’re right here. And so am I.”

“Pegs?” A fat tear dribbled out of his eye and fell toward the pillow.

Peggy’s thumb instantly moved to stroke it away. “Of course. Who else?”

“I killed Cato.” Herc’s face crumpled. “It’s all my fault.” His arms gripped his sides and he disintegrated into sobs.

“Oh, honey,” Peggy crooned, not far from tears herself and definitely more than a little disturbed. Cato, his friend from Syria? What if he’d actually killed him? Goodness, how little did Peggy actually know about Hercules? 

“Que se passe-t-il?” Lafayette cleared their throat and tried again. “What is going on?”

Peggy ignored them, instead focusing on calming down her boyfriend. “Shhhh, honey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt anyone. You wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Peggy hoped to God she wasn’t lying.

“Yes I did. Yes I did.”

 

“No? Why would you think that?”

“Well, it’s just… he said so.”

“He does not know what he’s saying. Cato killed himself.”

 

“Alexander, are you mad at me?” John asked in the cab that was taking them to the Schuyler sisters’ apartment, where they could stay so as to not overwhelm Hercules.

“A little bit,” Alexander said, his voice eerily cool, or as cool as Alexander could get his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. I shouldn’t be mad. I’m being stretched a bit thin, John.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have run like that. I panicked.”

“I know. God, honey, I know. I forgive you. Just don’t do it again.”

“I’m scared, Alex.”

Alexander felt his mind twist at the nickname. His mother had called him Alex. He always tried to act like these things didn’t bother him, but they did.

But Alexander didn’t correct him. “Why?”

“Because I’m gonna mess up and hurt you. And Laf and Herc. I’m not made to be a friend or a boyfriend. I’m bad.” All John could hear was George telling him so.

“I used to be really ashamed of where I came from,” Alexander started, not really understanding what drove him to tell this story. “I used to go out of my way to keep people from finding out.”

“Really?”

“But I’m not anymore. Because being ashamed feeds into everybody’s expectations that I never deserved. That I’d end up being a drug dealer or a sex offender just because I wasn’t born here. Now I know that what I do matters. Because there’s some Latino kid out there that thinks that where he comes from prevents him from being the best doctor or the best lawyer or the best fucking president there’s ever been.”

John looked up at Alexander, puzzled.

“There are thousands of kids that accept the expectations, John. There are drug dealers out there that could be teachers. They just didn’t know any better because all they’d ever known was that they were destined for a life in and out of jail.”

“Alex?”

“You shouldn’t do this. Maybe you’ve been told your whole life that you’re not enough. So have I. If you accept the expectations, then all you’re doing is destroying your possibilities before you even get to test them. You’re letting all those people make the choice for you.”

The cab driver was listening intently.

“Thanks, Alex,” John said. He reached his hand over and squeezed Alexander’s.

“Are you guys dating or something?”

John startled.

“Sorry,” said the cab driver. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

John wasn’t shaking at all. Definitely not.

“No,” Alexander said. “But would you have a problem if we were?”

John couldn’t help but smile. There was his hotheaded Alex.

“Oh no!” the driver exclaimed. “No! Of course not. Gosh. No. Gross. No. You guys just seem really…”

Alexander looked at the driver through the rearview mirror with a raised eyebrow.

“Anyway, I’m James Madison. It’s nice to meet you guys. Your speech made me feel very nice inside.”

John, who had quickly composed himself and determined that Alexander had not noticed his near panic attack from being sort of almost outed to a stranger, laughed. “Yeah, Alex, you’re good at that. You should be a motivational speaker. It worked for me.”

“Are you guys students?” James Madison asked.

“I am,” Alexander said, suddenly reminded that he had two classes that afternoon. “Pre-law.” 

“Impressive. Where you studying?”

“Columbia.”

James whistled. “Doubly impressive. Believe it or not, I used to be a student at Columbia. Then some shit happened and I dropped out, but I was a pre-law too.”

“What a coincidence!” Alexander exclaimed.

“You bet. We’re almost at your destination. By any means, my boyfriend and I are having a kegger this weekend. You guys should come, it’ll be fun.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind. Where is it?”

“Upper East side. 68th. Can you believe I’m dating a rich kid?”

Alexander laughed. “Well, this is our stop.” Alexander pulled out his wallet and handed James a wad of bills, with a high tip. “Thanks for the ride, James. It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll see each other this weekend.”

“Ooh, wait,” James said. “Here.” He passed Alexander a business card. “This has my phone number on it. Call me if you go. Also, yes, I do have my own therapy practice which makes me no money because I’m not licensed so I have to drive cabs on the side.”

John laughed. Alexander made a weird face.

When they got out of the car, Alexander said, “That was one odd dude.”

“True, but his party might be fun,” John replied.

Man, were they in for a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, I have no idea where this story is going. hope y'all are strapped in, because this could be an interesting ride
> 
> I. Almost. Made. All-State. I was so effing close. First Alternate. This might hurt more than a total failure. (but also it's probably optimal, I don't have time for this shit)
> 
> please comment and leave kudos (speaking of which, To Freedom hit 200 kudos yesterday, what the poop). especially comments. love, Kat


	18. HEEEEYYYY

GUESS WHAT

I'm making a spinoff prequel to To Freedom, which is about Herc and Cato and their deployment as well as the aftermath. This is probably a horrible idea because I'm already slow with To Freedom updates but OH WELL you guys should go read it the first chapter is up and it is called Knock Me Down. AO3 still makes no sense to me technologically and idk how to get a link up in here so go find it on your own if you are interested.


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